


Through the Stars

by KubricksCube



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Era, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-22 21:53:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 45,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23000974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KubricksCube/pseuds/KubricksCube
Summary: May love be ever enough to redeem someone from their past?|| Semi-Hiatus, again ||
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Sandor Clegane/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 36





	1. Fʀᴇᴇᴅ

* * *

_Five years ago_

Stuck in a cell of the House that she came from, she has not been counting the years that had passed since the end of Robert's Rebellion. She has not seen anyone except for her own kin, or whenever she is called upon to fight for other's war. She could not care less. The moment she plunged that sword to her brother's chest, they had already considered her as some kind of animal.

But she was not. She was their own blood.

Underneath where she rests, she can feel the blazing heat that Dorne emits. She was used to it anyway, as if she is being cooked to be fed at anyone who dares to eat. She cursed every waking moment of her life at first, but she became numb to it as the days go by. She'd count the men that would replace the former, that is when she can tell how long the years had passed.

Now, the heat became unbearable for her. She then laid down on her back, trying to fall asleep despite the fact that it burns her skin like wildfire, when she heard a male voice booming above her.

"Ser, you have been released by your brother, Lord Dayne."

_Gods be good._

As soon as she stepped out of the dark room, she knew that almost half of her vision was gone. Squinting whilst hands bound with chains, she walked. She stumbled a few times trying to follow the man who had fetched and unchained her from the cell. When they stopped, she vaguely saw familiar faces that stood before her. It was Robert, Ned, Beric, and her own two living siblings.

"Seven hells, you look like shit." Robert voiced out, causing everyone to laugh, including her.

"You're King now, Your Grace. One bad thing that had happened to your coronation," She rubbed her purple coloured eyes, hoping to lessen the bluriness of her vision, "I may have lost a little of my sight."

Her brother hadn't hesitated to call for a maester, all the while he still continued to speak. "You are being released, a request from the King and the Seven Kingdoms." An old man poured something in her mouth, something that is quite new to her. Her brother patiently waited for her answer, even after everyone had settled down. Chains clanked as it hit the ground. Gods, it feels so good, she thought.

She scoffed, she could see them more clearly now than before. "Why? You don't need me. I was all well, gracefully rotting in those cells, anyway." She was meaning to stand up when a hand came on her shoulder, "Sister," Allyria, the youngest of them, interejcted, "listen to what they have to say first."

"I don't want to fight anyone's war anymore. I'm not a knight with some string that you can pull whenever you like it."

"It's not anyone's war," Beric joined in, it was his betrothed that she is talking to after all, "it is our war that we are fighting."

"It's for us. For the living." Ned said, who appears to be holding back himself from speaking too much. "I've heard that many times, my Lord Stark." she muttered, years worth of hatred still lingered on her. Allyria opened her mouth to speak when she got cut off by her sister. "You all treated me as a kinslayer, why treat me as a human now?" her voice rose, not really meaning to shout it.

"Because we have our own reasons," Robert replied, "some fought, some lost, some won. And yet here we are, returning to our own people."

"The Others take you. Why do you need me?" she angrily questioned their motives, not having a care if she's talking to the King or not.

"You'll find out soon," her brother said, "kneel."

_With nothing to argue back anymore, she knelt in front of her brother, as confusing as it is for her, she did not press it on him anymore. But her questions were soon answered when her brother started reciting a vow that she just once heard. Her eyes widened. Why me? she thought. "...and now I name you, Ser Aemma Dayne, Sword of the Morning."_

* * *


	2. A ᴄʜᴀʟʟᴇɴɢᴇ

* * *

_It has been said that in order to unsheath and wield the"Dawn", you have to hail at its own home and you must be a very skilled warrior._

_Arthur Dayne made that clear to everyone who knows his name. A Kingsguard under Aerys II Targaryen, he was respected by everyone, up to this day he is still referred to as the greatest knight that had ever lived._

_House Dayne was proud of him, but not loudly proud of it. A true characteristic of their House._

_But alas, House Dayne went fully quiet when he was killed during Robert's Rebellion. Not because the young Eddard Stark defeated him, but because his sister finished him off. A sister that no one bothered to know, until that fated day._

_Or so they say._

* * *

No one could be bothered to talk for a bit nor slip a bread or two to fill their rumbling stomachs that day. It was the day that people from King's Landing were to arrive, and the Starks of Winterfell haven't been at rest since they have received a raven.

Men and women were dusting off the chandeliers and replacing every carpet inside the halls of the great Winterfell. Lady Catelyn Stark went far as to have the men groom themselves for the Queen and her beauty, and made them stock enough candles for Tyrion Lannister, the Queen's brother, to use if he decides to read a book or two.

Everyone is truly occupied, Lady Stark was walking around, checking if everything had been set when she noticed that her son, Bran, was descending from a tower. She gave her son a decent scolding, as it might be the cause of his death, to which she hoped not. She tried many times to warn her son, still Bran wouldn't listen.

Catelyn came closer to him, making Bran promise to not do it again, which of course, Bran half-agreed to it, even though his mother knew when he was lying. Sighing, she just told the boy to inform his father, Ned, that the King is nearing his arrival. Seeing her own Bran dashing off, she then walked to tell every person working to gather around the courtyard, where they will be greeting King's retinue.

Queen Cersei Lannister's wheelhouse was the first who entered Winterfell, followed by King Robert Baratheon and his knights. Arya's attention was caught by one of Robert's knights, wearing a Hound helmet. She then realized that it was Sandor Clegane, the younger brother of Gregor Clegane. On the other hand, Sansa's eyes were glued to one of Cersei's children, Joffrey Baratheon. She had noticed that he was smiling at her ever since they entered the area. 

Knowing that his men and family are already there, King Robert then dismounted from his horse, walked towards the Starks. It took awhile for the guests to gather round inside the Starks vicinity, and a little while before King Robert got around to greet every member of Lord Ned's family.

"Where's the Imp?" Arya, the third of the Starks, whispered, much to her sister's irritation.

"Will you shut up?" Sansa answered a little loudly.

Wary eyes and raised eyebrow, Ned noticed that Robert has been looking around them relentlessly, suggesting that they are still missing someone. Ned was slow to realize whom Robert was looking for, which he approached the King to answer his unspoken question. But he was interrupted when a guard shouted "stop" and "Targaryen" outside the gates, causing everyone to turn around to see who it is.

"What is the meaning of this?" Robert said.

The person was riding the horse aggressively fast, as if there is something that is chasing behind it. The guard then ordered the person to stop once again. The person indeed stopped, but only when it is in front of the King and Lord Stark. The Hound, unamused, pried open his helmet's visor to let himself breathe. _This warm welcome is taking longer because of this person_ , he thought.

The knights seemed to relax when they saw Robert and Ned smile, while the others were a bit confused, especially the King's family, as they knew that they had travelled with select people. And the person's armour didn't match with everyone else. Sandor Clegane observed the woman quietly, she was wearing full body armour, a purple cloak which bore a sigil of a white sword and a falling star strapped at her back. It was familiar to him. He was sure he had seen that sigil before, but cannot tell which House it belongs to.

A deep shade of purple eyes caught the Hound's own grey eyes. _Is she a Valyrian?_ he asked to himself. He knows House Velaryon and House Celtigar's sigil, but he cannot think of other Houses that had purple eyes and a sword and star to their sigil. His questions were soon answered when he heard the King asked the woman as to why she entered Winterfell just right now.

"Ser Aemma of House Dayne, Sword of the Morning, why are you here?" Aemma knelt down before the King, to which the latter motioned for her to stand up. "Your Grace. I have received a raven, stating that I should come to Winterfell at once." Robert stared at her, then gave a hearty laugh. Ned and Aemma soon followed. "You are to arrive a month earlier than us. Why is that?"

Petting her silver mount in order to avoid looking at King Robert, Aemma slyly smiled before answering. "I may have taken a wrong turn, and I instead arrived at Castle Black."

"You shan't bother my brother, he is now bound by his vow on the Night's Watch." Ned jokes, which caused Robert to give another loud laugh. For everyone around them, it is unusual for the Lord Stark to be joking, let alone in front of the guests. It is a sight to remember, though it may soon be forgotten by most.

When the three were done laughing, Robert called the attention of the two to follow him. It made them confused, which prompted Robert to speak. "Take me to your crypt. I want to pay my respect."

"We've been riding for a month, my love. Surely, the dead can wait." spoke Cersei. Robert shifted his gaze upon her and then back to the two. "Ned. Aemma." was all that he said. Aemma could not help but feel guilty about the situation of the Queen that she's in, although it is not enough to remove the fact that Cersei had been sleeping with his twin brother, Ser Jaime Lannister, behind Robert's back.

Ned was the first to follow Robert down the crypt. Aemma approached the Starks, telling them that she will get back to them momentarily. As Aemma was about to walk down the stairs, she again went to where the Starks are, then ordered Robb to go fetch something.

Aemma then took one last look around before going down the crypt, scanning everyone, looking for the knight that she had eye contact with, but to no avail.

* * *

"I'm not trying to honour you, I'm trying to get you to run my kingdom while I eat, drink, and whore my way to my early grave. Damn it, Ned. Stand up."

This is what Aemma saw when she finally caught up with the two. Whatever power it was that Robert was trying to bestow Ned, they knew that the latter wouldn't want it. Ned was too honourable, too honourable that it catches some unwanted attention. They both didn't notice Aemma's arrival, so she then spoke up. "I thought you ought to visit the crypt, why are you two trying to honour each other here?"

"He is now the Hand of King, and you are coming back with us on King's Landing." Robert said nonchalantly. He is wise to tell it now, as he knew she would decline if he had fallen for her trickster question.

The darkness around the crypt got immense as the King's words left his lips. Haunting violet eyes observed the Stag and the Wolf, "I can't, your Grace."

"I assume you'd decline. Are you still living in the past?" Aemma nodded. "You'll have plenty of time to forgive yourself. Right now, you must forget it first."

Defying a king is one of Aemma's many traits, from the Tourney at Harrenhal to Robert Baratheon's plan on having a feast after she had been freed from imprisonment. Rejection is the last thing that the man that stood in front of her wanted to hear, yet the things that she wanted to say were warning to be let out through her voice.

"I have no business to be in King's Landing. I'm sure you'd understand tha-'' a roar halted her from speaking further. "I released you from your torment. I released you so that you cannot rot in that damned cell anymore. Do not think I don't have the power to bestow and place you to be in that damned Keep."

The Quiet Wolf observed the Knight. Her face seemed sad, though this did not surprise him as he often saw her brother's face in her, yet her eyes were fixated on nothing. They were cold, for a moment Ned thought her eyes to be black, but then she looked up at them.

"As you will, your Grace."

* * *

After the Feast that was held to fully welcome the King, Ned and Robert decided to go out hunting, which meant that half of the knights were to come by the King's side. Seeing that there is nothing left to do, Aemma decided to join the hunt. When asked by Ned why, she just told him that she wants to bring something to Ser Barristan, as they haven't seen each other for a long time. Ned just nodded and continued to prepare.

A pair of eyes observed the unsuspecting Lady. Tyrion Lannister is seated beside the Hound, bantering with each other. The Hound realized that the Lord beside him isn't talking anymore, rather, he is looking at the woman that is readying herself to mount her stallion.

The half-man scratched his beard and sighed, "I have heard of House Dayne before. I never thought that I'd see one from their House, let alone a Dayne reaching Winterfell." Sandor looked at Tyrion, who is still not taking his eyes off of Aemma. "Is that the kinslayer?"

"A kinslayer. Yes. She's at Lord Stark's side when he was killed. No wonder they call her the lover of wolves."

The Hound was rather intrigued by what he just heard, though he did not question Tyrion about her anymore. He quietly made his way to his black mount, Stranger, when he noticed one of Lord Stark's boys approached the woman, handing her on what seemed a sword too big for her to wield.

"She may go unnoticed by some, but I heard that it is Ser Barristan and her brother, Ser Arthur, that personally trained her." looking to his left, he saw the half-man fiddling with the end of his tunic. "And I heard she has not lost a battle."

"What in the seven buggering hells do I care about that?"

"I thought you should know, since you can't keep your eyes off of her since the day we arrived here in Winterfell." Tyrion teased. _This fucking Imp_ , The Hound thought. Instead, he gave Tyrion a grunt for an answer before riding off. The Imp was not wrong, the Hound admitted to himself. Amusement and curiosity got the best of him when he first laid his eyes on the woman, yet taking back that thought instantly when he remembered that he is nothing but a cold, ugly dog in the eyes of everyone.

* * *

Weeks had passed by since Robert and Ned decided to hunt, the same time that they found Bran bloody and unconscious. Lady Stark decided to stay behind at Winterfell with Robb, whilst Jon, his uncle Benjen, and Tyrion, set off to The Wall. The remaining Starks, including Aemma, went with Robert towards King's Landing.

The party is now situated at some inn at the crossroads, to everyone's relief. Thanks to Masha Heddle, the innkeep, Aemma had been blessed by the gods with their well-known sweet cakes. Their stop was really a god's gift, after all, the Queen's wheelhouse has been wearing the stallions down, slowing the group's travel. A smile broke from her lips as Aemma thought that's the best thing that Robert had done these past few weeks.

Though, only a fool would have not noticed the beauty of the lands that they are stepping in, and the Lady did not fret to waste any time. Strolling around after talking to the King and the new Hand, taking some free time by herself when she noticed that the Queen's Justice, Ilyn Payne, was standing in front of Sansa and her direwolf, Lady. And more surprising when she saw The Hound was behind her.

Carefully, she approached the group, to see what they were about. "... since the Mad King had his tongue ripped out with hot pincers." was all she heard the Hound say when she was an arm's length at them. She gave Sansa a small smile, reassuring her, not knowing why she is that scared of Sandor.

Joffrey slithered into the conversation and stood beside Aemma before he began to speak, "He speaks damn well with his sword, though." The blonde haired prince then approached Sansa, which made her all giddy and in love. _There it goes_ , Aemma thought. He then proceeded to lift Sansa's chin up, then asked her a senseless question. Joffrey then continued to berate the Hound, his appearance specifically. When the Hound didn't reply, he ordered him to go away.

A twitch under her eye, Aemma wanted to smack the boy's head, but it would cause her her own. Sansa charmed her way into making Aemma bring Lady with her for a while, which the Lady Knight reluctantly agreed on. The blonde prince was getting impatient with the two Ladies talk, so Aemma rested her arm on the hilt of her sword and bowed her head to the two, "Have a nice walk, Prince Joffrey. Lady Sansa." She waited for the two to be out of earshot before whistling at Lady, accompanying her to follow where the Hound had gone off.

It seemed for her that luck is on her side today, as the search was not that long. She found the Hound at a nearby stump, sitting quietly and staring into nothingness. "I've never seen a man that loyal before you. You should've at least given him a glare before you left." Aemma started the conversation, not knowing how. The Hound just looked up at her then chuckled grimly. "That's none of your fucking business, woman." Aemma then returned the chuckle, "Maybe. Maybe not. May I refer to you by your name?"

Whispers and tales of that the Hound being a grouchy one wasn't new to Aemma. She knew that he was getting irritated by her constant talking, and it made her even more drawn to him. "Why in the seven hells would you ask for my permission?" His brows furrowed, if Aemma knew better, it was as if he had just growled at her. "It just seems that you are accustomed to being called" The Hound". Or "Dog". A formality, Sandor, if you may."

"Are you even aware of who you're talking to, woman?" Sandor scoffed out of confusion rather than arrogance. Though, instead of being intimidated, she just laughed before sitting down on the grass, beside the man she's talking with. She patted the empty space for Lady beside her. It was rather amusing as the direwolf did not hesitate to follow Aemma, knowing that she isn't her master. "Oh, fret not, I know who you are Sandor. I just have the right amount of decency to treat you as a human, unlike these lots here." Aemma pointed out to the knights that are walking around.

Sandor cannot help but smile darkly at her statement. "And what makes you think that I have even a little bit of decency?" He asked her. "You could've punched Joffrey in his throat when he barked earlier," she cursed herself when she let the words slip out of her mouth, he is still the prince's sworn shield after all.

Seeing that Sandor didn't reply, Aemma then unbuckled her sword from her hips, it's not like they are about to leave that soon. The silence filled the spaces between them, only observing the men do their own thing. "What's that?" Sandor asked out of nowhere, whilst pointing at Dawn.

"A sword." Aemma bit back her tongue, preventing her from laughing as she had cheekily crossed on to Sandor. "I know that, you shit. Why's that you carry? Not some sword that is small enough for you to wield."

"It's my House's ancestral sword, called Dawn." Sandor waited for a moment, not sure if she's about to add something, but she didn't. He was about to say something when they heard Cersei call his name. Standing up swiftly, he then walked towards the direction to where the voice came from, leaving Aemma alone. It was fine, though. She did not want to move anyway, given that she is now feeling her eyes drop down until all the sounds and men were blocked out by her senses.

* * *

A stone was thrown in Aemma's face, causing her to jolt up from her sleep. _Who's the little shit?_ Aemma thought. Her eyes scanned around the area when she saw Arya smirking at her. Shaking her head, she slowly stood up. Her surroundings have gone dark now, and some of the men began to settle at their tents. She also noticed that Lady was nowhere to be seen, Aemma thought that Sansa must've taken Lady with her while she was sleeping.

Aemma stretched her arms and legs before holstering her sword back at her hips once more. She was walking towards their tents when she saw a tall figure leading a horse. _A fresh hunt?_ She thought. Aemma walked a few steps more when the figure was clear enough for her to make out. It was Sandor, leading his stallion with a dead body of a boy mounted on it.

The expression that Sandor wore was grimmer than before, as if he is annoyed that the blonde Prince whined again to punish the dead boy for whatever reason.

When they were an arm's length at each other, Aemma greeted him with a nod. She knew that the man wouldn't acknowledge it, but she did it anyway. To her surprise, Sandor stopped in his tracks. He smiled darkly at her, a smile that reeks of lust for blood. It was the face of a man who's been bound to do nothing but kill.

"Where's the decency now, woman?"

Unfazed, Aemma just shrugged and walked off to where she is headed, which made the scarred man more annoyed. A few moments after, Sandor continued to walk to Cersei's tent, to show her that the boy has already been slain.

Coincidentally, Aemma saw Ned just ahead of her, mouth agape at the sight of the Hound. Lord Stark never noticed Aemma approached him until she pulled him out of his thoughts. She beckoned him to follow as they walked around the Crossroads Inn, if Aemma knew anything about Ned it's that quiet places help him collect himself.

And Aemma gave it to him, that peacefulness of the woods and the stillness of their surroundings. The skies that night was clear, making the presence of the stars more visible in the naked eye. The sight before them made Aemma smile and thought of their sigil, which made Ned relax a little.

"I've always thought if the stories of how our home was built were true, then I saw a falling star myself one day, I didn't doubt it ever since." Aemma's gaze was situated towards the sky as she voiced out her mind, there is always that majestic feeling that she gets whenever the Sun takes its rest. "I don't doubt it either," was all Ned replied.

She hummed in response, "And I doubt Catelyn was that happy when she saw me arrive at Winterfell, then?" He laughed, yet his eyes remained cold as ever. _Even his laughter is reserved_ , Aemma thought.

"Stop that now," Ned's face relaxed, "I know why you asked me to walk with you. What is it?"

They both stopped at a nearby tree, facing to where the Royal Family and their guards were situated. Aemma placed Dawn at her side before making herself comfortable on the grass, Ned followed.

And it was now Ned who gave Aemma some time of stillness, letting her gather her thoughts before their silence was broken. "They won't like you, your principles, and your way of life. Best be careful, Ned." She spoke, her eyes directly at the tents far from them. 

But Ned shook his head, "You're thinking too much aga-" Aemma put her hands on his shoulders, "I maybe thinking too much again, but I've seen the looks that the Queen gives you. I can see through her false smiles and honey-coated greetings, you don't. Believe me, Ned. Right now, as we speak, she's starting to think if you can be turned against Robert or not, and I know you know the answer to that."

"I've heard stories about your brother's loyalty to the Mad King. He never spoke against the Mad King, even through all the horrible things that he did. I could see now that not only you look like Arthur, your mind also works like his." If anything Aemma hated, it's that Ned spoke without sweetness nor kindness. He would tell you things straight to the point, not caring if he sounds brutal or harsh.

The two of them stared at each other, disappointment in Ned's eyes while anger was seething in Aemma's. "Take it back," she bit the inside of her cheek, "take back what you said about Arthur."

"It's the truth," his voice sharp as steel, "I vowed that I'd only speak honestly whenever we would talk, and now you won't accept what I had just said." With that, Ned walked away from Aemma, leaving her frozen in place. Tears falling down her cheek as she slumped herself against a tree, her fists clenched tightly, forcing herself not to succumb to the reality that Ned had just given her.

Yet she failed. Aemma hugged her knees before letting her heart cry. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still not beta'd.


	3. Tᴏᴏ ғᴀsᴛ

* * *

The weather was rather sunny today, Aemma pondered, as she walked towards the King's room. She has been called again by Robert himself, wanting her to offer the position of being one of the Kingsguard in his reign, a bold attempt of the King knowing she won't accept it. Being a knight was a burden enough for her, as attention isn't what Aemma is looking for. Especially of her past.

Of course, she didn't mind being called by Robert, Aemma's been deliberately avoiding Ned since their conversation. She would excuse herself whenever Ned would approach her, even spending her entire day with his daughters just to prevent him from bringing what made her mad about him.

Jaime Lannister was the first person that she saw when she arrived at the door of the King's room. The Lion of Lannister gave her a nod, almost like a bow, an action she felt sincere enough to acknowledge her.

"You should be inside, if I heard correctly, Ser Barristan is also here on duty as well." Aemma, not knowing how to greet the Lannister back. Jaime, looking down at his feet, spat his venom in a whisper. "The King wants me here. And, I am sure he doesn't want to see me or my face."

He clearly knows that the Lady of Starfall doesn't see anyone above everyone, which he was glad for at least. Jaime is still wary of the woman that stands in front of him, a woman that was once madly in love with the Quiet Wolf. Or so the whispers say.

Aemma, having none of it, tapped Jaime's shoulder, indicating that he should follow her. Jaime was taken aback by this action of her. But as soon as she was about to knock, the other Lannister, Lancel, opened the door and immediately ran off to God knows where. Robert is quick to motion for Aemma and Jaime to come inside, while in the process, telling the latter how he sees the faces of the Lannisters everywhere he goes. Robert didn't give Jaime enough time to reply, he quickly changed the subject, asking Jaime who was his first kill, not counting the Mad King on this one.

Answer by answer, the two men took jabs at each other, only for Jaime to end it with a phrase that the Mad King would always say.

"Burn them all."

Barristan knew that there would be no end to their discussion, he turned their attention to Aemma, who was seemingly getting drunk on her own. Jaime knew of her first kill, it was a well-known rumour, or rather, truth.

"I didn't think that there would be two Kingslayers here in my room." the King had said, hoping to sneak in the position of Kingsguard in their conversation. He thought wrong, as his words had put Aemma in the worst of all mood. "A Kinslayer, your Grace, not a Kingslayer." She dragged a chair across the room and in between the Kingslayer and the Commander of the Kingsguard, "What you are requesting of me, is impossible. I request leave, your Grace. I wish to return to Starfall."

She knew that the Gods themselves are already asking for payment. The King shook his head, inspecting the flagon that was once full of wine. "You will be a part of the council meetings from now on. The power that I possess has pardoned you before. And now, I order you to be." Robert finally said.

A sigh escaped from her lips, she knew nothing but to agree at her King's order. A sudden realization hit her, as the Robert she once knew was still in the King in front of her view. A stubborn Baratheon that wore a crown.

* * *

After her lesson with the Septa, Sansa kindly asked Aemma to accompany her around Red Keep, since she knew that Aemma had been here many times to know the way around here.

As they were walking, Sansa spotted Joffrey walking alongside with his own guard, Sandor. The first time that Aemma landed her eyes on Sansa, she knew too well that she'd be just like her mother. A girl dreaming of fairytales and nonsense. And in an instant, Sansa motioned for her to follow where Joffrey is. The blonde prince noticed this, so he motioned for Sandor as well to follow him.

Yet Aemma couldn't tell what Sansa's gaze meant whenever the Hound would come into view, and that same goes for the man. Only the difference is that Sandor's eyes held more than what comes out of his mouth. _It wouldn't hurt to ask him someday,_ she thought to herself. 

When both of the parties got close enough, Sansa bowed before the blonde prince, while he took her hand to kiss it.

"My love," He said to Sansa while he slowly shifted his gaze upon the Lady of Starfall that stood behind Sansa. He carefully studied Aemma, from head to toe, an arrogant look that Aemma knew too well.

"It's a pleasure to see you again, Lady Dayne." Joffrey spoke, "I have heard great stories about you, Ser Aemma of House Dayne, Sword of the Morning, and a Kinslayer. How does it feel to plunge the greatsword that your brother wielded before you killed him?"

"Aemma, Prince Joffrey. The title kind of gets boring." Aemma stood there with no expression to be seen on her face, just those purple eyes staring into the blonde prince, then shifted it towards The Hound.

"And no, nothing at all. I have been told that this," Aemma patted the hilt of the greatsword, "is heavy. That only men can carry it and wield it. I was left unamused when for the first time I personally lifted it."

All of what Aemma said is true. The greatsword wasn't that heavy, unlike what others have been telling. It was obvious that Joffrey had the impression that the Lady was threatening him, which is not, for all Sansa knew.

Sansa then held Joffrey's hand, for it looks like he was about to have an outburst. "Come, Prince Joffrey. Show me the way around the Keep instead." Sansa chirped. Joffrey just glared at Aemma before leading Sansa to walk. Soon after Sandor and Aemma followed.

Sandor was quietly following the two, not really giving a damn to what they were talking about when Aemma pulled him out of his zone.

"He's not the one to take simple answers, yes?" The Hound looked at where Aemma was, then shook his head. The Lady of Starfall didn't say anything, for a while, as to Sandor's disappointment. They stayed silent, until Aemma asked him in his surprise. "Will you fight at the Tournament, Sandor?"

"I'm not a Knight, I can't fight." It was Aemma's turn now to be surprised, though she did not know why. "After all the days and nights that you have spent here, they haven't offered you to be Knighted? Why?" Sandor stopped in his tracks, he faced Aemma, looming over her. "If being a Knight makes me the same as my brother, then I do not wish to be one."

"A feared warrior, Gregor is. But not wise, unbeknownst to all."

"You fucking know him?" Sandor spat. "Of course. A brute that he is, there is no way that his name will go unrecognized." Sandor did not speak up anymore. Aemma understood that she knew and felt that there is a rift that is between Sandor and Gregor, but she did dare not push him about it.

* * *

The skies have turned dark now, the smell of smoke, sweat, and shit did not leave the City. The locals didn't mind it, as it is far more pleasing to smell than what surrounds these halls that closes them off from the other Kingdoms. Few people are still seen to roam around the road, as the majority of the men and women had already made their way back home, inside their own safety. Some went to a nearby tavern, drowning away all of their sorrows and pain, or they're just a plain drunkard that wants nothing but silence.

Sandor was one of them.

Earlier, when the blonde prince and the young wolf decided to head back to their chambers, Aemma had asked him a favor to see her if he would be participating in the tournament.

_"I have already told you, I am no fucking knight, woman."_

_"You may never know what might come inside the Prince's head."_

_He just sighed, knowing that she's right. Joffrey can be a cunt, or sometimes impulsive. Well, he's mostly both._

_"Why do you keep on pestering me anyway, woman?"_

_"The King has plans for me to join the Kingsguard, but I will suggest another way. Though I am reconsidering it, since Ser Barristan has dedicated his life training me and my brother. This is the only way that I think of repaying him."_

_"What's that got to do with you pestering me?"_

_"My presence may not be there when the Tournament starts. And I..." Aemma trailed off._

Sandor was still left wondering what was the Lady's intention, and what she was about to say. The scene that they had shared earlier won't leave his mind alone, and he knows that this specific memory won't be leaving anytime soon.

* * *

As Ned expected, the Tournament that Robert had arranged for his appointment as the Hand of King is continued, despite Ned's pleas not to. Having no choice, Ned opted out to attend the tournament and instead spent his time at his chambers, reading the last book that Jon Arryn read, according to the Grand Maester Pycelle.

In replacement of Ned, Aemma was sent by him to replace his presence at the Tournament. She agreed, only after a cold conversation with Ned.

The Lady of Starfall arrived just as the tournament was about to start. She looked at her left and right, looking for her mentor that she hasn't seen in a long time. She kept looking, until she found him. _Of course, he'd be at Robert's side,_ Aemma thought. She stared for a moment, not sure if she should be that close to the King when a certain man caught her attention.

Barristan was silently observing the scene, the contenders being introduced when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"That is the Mountain, yes?" He turned to see Aemma smiling widely, her deep purple eyes caused his mind to remember her sister that he loved so dearly. "Aemma," Barristan put his hand on her shoulder as well, "we haven't had a proper conversation since you arrived here."

Barristan proceeded to hug her. _Only for a while, to feel her again,_ he thought. "We did, just with the Kingslayer around." Robert turned his head momentarily, his eyes that said more than his face. "Do not think I don't hear you lots talk. Be quiet now." Robert chimed in, not wanting everyone to have the wrong idea about what has been talked about by them. Barristan just smiled at Aemma while he answered the King. "Yes, your Grace."

Aemma then looked to Robert's left, where she saw Sandor earlier. He stood there, quietly looking at his brother at the arena. Feeling that she might get caught, Aemma then tore her gaze away from him.

The two Knights have positioned themselves, The Mountain and Ser Hugh of the Vale are the ones to start the joust. Everyone was cheering, making their bets on who will win between the two when Aemma heard Sansa gasp in fear. She looked at the knights, The Mountain stood tall, whilst Ser Hugh lay dead at the ground, a piece of the lance impaled on his neck.

"That's one way to fully commence a tourney," Aemma muttered quietly, fingers tapping restless on her arm. The King only gave her a glance, whilst Barristan did not even move his gaze to the scene before them, men struggling to carry Ser Hugh's body and some boy desperately covering the blood that stained the soil.

* * *

A couple of days had passed since the tournament and the death of Ser Hugh happened, yet it did not stop the continuation of the event. Robert wanted to participate in the tourney, luckily Ned was informed of it and had stopped his dear friend from joining.

When the last tournament had ended, Aemma had proposed to Robert that she will not be a Kingsguard, rather, she will be at Ned's service. The King was hesitant at first, though ultimately agreeing to the deal. Robert also told Aemma not to disclose her services to everyone, as it might get her killed when something happens. The deal had caused Aemma to be spending most of her time with Barristan when she is not called upon by Sansa or Arya.

Being with Barristan all the time, Sandor had started to warm up to the woman, although the Hound is a man of few words, it did not stop Aemma from talking to him. After all, Sandor quite enjoys whenever the Lady bothers him.

Ned surprised Aemma when he decided to watch the joust with them, knowing that Ned doesn't enjoy these types of extravaganza. Aemma greeted him with a hug when he went to the stands. "A change of heart, Lord Stark?" Eyes that were as grey as the steel of the knights, it met Aemma's, causing a shudder down at her spine. "No. I had to convince the King to not participate in today's joust, so I had to come watch now."

"Good choice." was all Aemma replied. She then walked towards the King, as Barristan and the other Kingsguard were at the gates to where the squires would come out and bring the swords of the Knights.

Resting her hand at the hilt of Dawn, she took a quick look to where Sandor stands. As always, he seemed bored out of his mind. Aemma realized that she had been staring at him for a long time when Sandor returned her stare, curiosity in his eyes.

Aemma felt she was saved by the Gods when the combatants for today soon entered, The Mountain being the first one to appear. He stopped his horse in front of the King, bowing before him. Soon afterwards, Ser Loras Tyrell, the Knight of the Flowers, entered carrying a rose that he placed in Sansa's hand, causing the girl to blush.

It was Sandor's turn now to look at Aemma, her eyes directed at Sansa, but she was lost in her own thoughts. He recognized the emotion that Aemma's eyes held, it was one of those looks that seems to long for someone. Sandor cannot help but relax his body, a wave of unknown emotions rushed through him when he thought of the possibility to participate in a joust just to give the woman a rose.

His thoughts were interrupted when a loud cheer rang the vicinity, he turned his gaze to Ser Loras, who's now celebrating. Sandor saw his brother had been unhorsed, letting a small smile break into his lips.

The Mountain, embarrassed and enraged at the same time, shouted at his squire to bring him his sword. The boy did not waste time, so did the Mountain. In an instant, he drew out his sword and beheaded his own horse. He then started walking furiously at Ser Loras, knocking the latter down from his horse. The Mountain did not stop there, he began to smash his sword against Ser Loras' shield when a shout from the stand emerged.

"Leave him be!" exclaimed Sandor while he jumped down from the stands, blocking his older brother's swing.

If it weren't for Sandor, the final jab that The Mountain made would've smashed Ser Loras' shield and killed him instantly. The Clegane brothers exchanged blows of their sword, anger within the two that is masked by The Mountain's actions towards Ser Loras. Some of the people sensed that the two wouldn't stop fighting, even Aemma. She was ready to jump down to diffuse the situation when the King stood up, deciding that enough is enough.

"Stop this madness in the name of your King!" Robert shouted. Sandor was quick enough to kneel down before him, avoiding his brother's sword making contact with his head. With his anger still rising, The Mountain threw his sword out of frustration and walked out of the arena. Robert then shouted to leave him alone, as anyone knew not to mess with The Mountain when he's in that state. With a nod, Sandor stood up and felt a hand touch his. It was Ser Loras, he declared that Sandor was the winner of the joust, to which he felt discomfort.

* * *

Weeks had passed since the heroic deed of Sandor, a current chain of events had happened around the King's Landing. The King had called for yet another small council meeting. Lord Eddard Stark was the last one to arrive, and the first one to leave, with the Lady of Starfall and Commander of the Kingsguard following.

Aemma found herself once again at the ruined Godswood of King's Landing. Her troubled mind had left her sighing repeatedly, hoping that the wind would carry it away from her and from the man that she formerly loved. Yet the Gods are cruel to her, with each sigh that she draws the more her problems plague her mind.

"I was informed that you'd be here, Lady Aemma," a voice came from behind her, almost feminine sounding "how well is the King's Landing treating a Dornish woman?" Aemma faced the source of the voice, only to find out that it is the spider. He seemed to have disguised himself, as his scent of lavender is replaced with a strong scent of sweat. A cowl to perfectly cover his face, though it did not cover enough of him that day.

The spider bowed to her with grace, his hands tucked away in his sleeves. "Poorly, Lord Varys. Yet who am I to raise my complaints?" Aemma sensed that the eunuch is playing a little game of his. _Why?_ she questioned herself. The eunuch rested his back on the wall as he continued to subtly observe the Lady. "Why of course, a friend of the King and his Hand, that is a question that needed not to be raised." _A friend and a man that I loved,_ she corrected him without words.

"Rightfully so," her voice failing her as her chuckle came out hoarsely, "why are you here, Lord Varys? Speak with the truth and nothing but it." It was the eunuch's turn to chuckle now, his hands had moved to his back. "Of all people, you and Ser Barristan are the only ones to know why."

She cannot count how many times she had sighed that day. _I'd gladly give up my memory if it means to live a peaceful life,_ she thought. Only a fool wouldn't see the dangers of men and women knowing that someone still believes in the Targaryens. "Lord Varys," Aemma started, "this is treason we are talking." 

"If you deem it to be, Lady Aemma." she looked at the eunuch, his soft expression now turned into a grimmer one. A truthful one, if Aemma's eyes does not deceive her. She stared long enough at Varys before her attention was drawn to a towering man that's approaching them. Varys noticed this and he immediately turned back to become one of his false identity.

Sandor slowed his steps as he noticed the Lady of Starfall talking to a hooded figure in front of her. He watched carefully as the hooded man bowed to Aemma, her eyes shouting whatever that is troubling her. The hooded man passed by him with light steps, it is as if the man was made of water. Only silence ever came out of Aemma, and it worried Sandor for a bit. He was about to ask who the mysterious man that Aemma had talked to when the man stopped and gave her one last words.

"Like your kin, you have a clear mind and are a noble shield. Consider, m'lady."

* * *


	4. Sᴘɪʀᴀʟʟɪɴɢ

* * *

Aemma was taking a walk around the Red Keep after she had visited Robert in his chambers. After the hunt, Robert came back severely wounded as he was too drunk to fight off the boar that had attacked him. Aemma recalled that she was one of the people, apart from Robert's family, that Renly approached to tell them that Robert is dying. Before her departure, Aemma asked if Ned had been informed of this, to which Renly nodded.

When she arrived at Robert's chamber earlier, she saw that Robert was talking with his son Joffrey. Cersei, Barristan, Varys, and Sandor were also there, standing in a circle to listen to the dying King speak. Sandor was the first one that Aemma greeted, earning looks from the others. She did not mind it, though. After all, she's not hiding the fact that the one that they call the Hound had caught her attention. Aemma stood beside Barristan as Robert lends his words to the blonde prince. Not long after, Ned arrived, dismissing the five people that had come before her and Ned.

Feeling the wind caress her face, Aemma now looks at the sea from the Godswood. She is not the type to pray for someone that cannot be seen, yet Aemma can't help but plea for the Gods to save Robert and the Starks on what's about to come. She was about to get lost in her thoughts when a rough voice came from behind her.

"You've spent a lot of time with the Starks you're starting to believe in their God now." turning her back, Aemma saw Sandor walk in her direction. "I have exiled, somehow, myself from where I came from, don't you think I am free now to do what I want?" Sandor grunted, a normal occurrence for the both of them. "Then why are you still carrying that?" Sandor pointed at the Dawn. Aemma gripped at the handle of the greatsword, "When I left Dorne, they made sure that this also comes with me." The Hound stared at her, not knowing what to make of her answer. "Leave the city. Nothing good will come to you here anyway." Aemma cocked her head slightly sideways, a feeling of dread soon consumed her stomach. "Why? Is there something that has happened?"

"The King is dead and Lord Stark has been arrested." Aemma's eye widened on what she just had heard, "Don't. They'll know that you're one of Ned's knights." Sandor said as Aemma's body suddenly jerked, as if she's trying to rush to Ned's side. "I'm not Ned's knight, I am a knight of Starfall and Ned's my friend. I am his friend."

The Hound cackled, "Do you take the Queen for a fool?" _She thinks she's clever, but she's not, really,_ a retort Aemma wanted to give Sandor, but she held herself back. Instead, she asked about Ned's daughters.

"Sansa and Arya? Where are they? Are they okay?" Sandor was about to give her an obvious answer when out of nowhere, Aemma placed both of her hands on Sandor's shoulder. She was staring at him with worried eyes, something that is new to him. Seeing that the Lady is beginning to panic, Sandor put his hand on her face, causing both of them to be shocked. He then pulled his hand away. "Go now, or you'll be fucking dea-"

"I won't leave. Not until I see the Starks and Barristan." Aemma cut him off. She released her grip from his shoulders and left the Godswood, leaving Sandor confused at her actions.

* * *

"Promise me, Aemma. Promise me you'll protect them."

Aemma didn't have a hard time searching for Ned's cell, she's now on her knees, begging to stop saying things like he's about to die, while Ned's doing the same.

"I can't, Ned. There will be justice, don't sentence yourself to your early grave."

"Robert's dead! Renly has left the city, so does Loras Tyrell. All of my men are gone and now-" Ned choked, Aemma has never seen him cry before, "now you're the only one keeping the monsters away from my daughters."

He was right. Even if Barristan is the one who stood as his father, Aemma knew that he'd be forced to act against his will. Left with no choice, she reached her hands out to Ned. He then held her hands, letting the silence prevail for a moment.

"When you made Brandon ask Ashara for a dance with you, I felt nothing but jealousy. When I led you to where Arthur was, it's only because I thought that would make you fall in love with me, yet I felt nothing but anger. When I found out you were married to Catelyn, I felt nothing but sadness." Ned lifted his head up, "Aemma, don't."

She just shook her head, "I want you to know the reason for the things I've done." Aemma paused, "I've done nothing but wrong. Not just towards the people around me, but to you as well. And I apologize, I apologize for what I've done before. Do not worry about the conversation that we had on Crossroads, I have already forgiven you for it, I hope you can forgive me as well."

The Quiet Wolf listened intently, he was asking himself if he was that of a fool to not realize all of it. He saw Aemma smile at him, to which he returned. "I promise you, Ned, I will protect your family until the end. I will carry this, not expecting something in return. And even if I die protecting them, I will leave with a freed heart."

The two were calming themselves after the conversation that they had when they both heard footsteps from the side. Aemma drew out her sword when a familiar voice spoke up. "There's no need for that, Ser Aemma." it was the Spider, Varys the eunuch. "It would be best for you to leave the city now. There's danger that lurks everywhere you go." Aemma had sheathed her sword as she studied the Spider with caution. "I won't leave that fast, Lord Varys. I have a duty that I must fulfill, assuming that you've heard it."

"Yes, but the longer that you stay here, the faster they'll know that you're not on their side." Aemma went quiet, then nodded at the Spider's statement. It seems that she has been too distracted from what was happening in her surroundings. _You've got to focus,_ she said to herself.

"Oh, and it also seems that you have taken a liking to the Hound. Best to avoid him, emotions won't suffice when the new King barks at him his orders."

Forcing a smile, Aemma then bowed to Lord Varys and Ned, signalling her retreat to her chambers. Although there's still no apparent danger that surrounds her, Aemma took no chance of being caught. She walked gently, as to not alert the others of her presence. When she reached the top of the stairs, her body collided with someone else's.

"What have I told you, woman?" Sandor rasped. Aemma looked up to face Sandor's eyes, asserting him the anger that has been starting to boil inside her. "I won't be leaving."

"You're that stubborn, aren't you? Let me hear you fucking say that when the men of the City Watch break you rough." A laugh that has been touched lightly with madness escaped from Aemma's mouth. "You won't be hearing it from me. And they wouldn't be able to."

Sandor noticed the venomous tone that she had when she said that. He just laughed at her, thinking that she's some kind of mighty knight that can withstand every knight and guard that is in the city. He moved away from her way, allowing the Lady to walk back to her own chambers peacefully. Sandor watched Aemma, even if in times like this, she still walks like a true knight.

It was not until later, when guilt overtook his mind when Sandor realized what he had just said about her, and the thoughts of him doubting her abilities. He wanted to run after her, and yet he cannot move, as if his feet had been stuck at the floor.

* * *

A loud knock woke Aemma up from her slumber. The sun has not risen up yet, and as far as she remembers, no events were to happen today. Groggily, she approached the door to see who it was, it was Barristan.

"Prepare yourself, Aemma. The new King is planning to hold a court at the Red Keep. You must pack everything up now."

Sensing the urgency of his voice, Aemma did not question Barristan any further. She did what she had been told, which she had finished quickly before the sun finally rose up. Aemma then took a bath, knowing that if Joffrey abided by his madness, she would be forced to flee the city alone.

Aemma was staring at her window when a loud knock erupted from her door. _This is it_ , she thought. She pulled the door open to meet the person who just knocked, just to find Sandor looking at her.

"The King summons you to the court of Red Keep."

* * *

As soon as she heard that she was being requested, Aemma did not waste any time to go to the Red Keep. She told Sandor that she'll be coming right up and that the King might be searching for him right now. When Sandor was about to turn, Aemma then called out his name again. She gestured for Sandor to come close,

"What I have shown to you, is real. Do not forget that. Until then, wait for me."

Sandor, confused again on how she works with words, just nodded and ultimately left her chambers.

The walk from her chamber to the Red Keep isn't that far, but Aemma walked with haste, yet still commanding. And when the doors opened for her, she heard Barristan yelling, sword unsheathed. "Even now I could cut through the five of you like carving a cake."

Fear woke up from her body, not because of the people that's inside the halls, but because of Barristan's voice. When the man speaks, he means it, though it did not make her halt. She walked, until Aemma stopped beside Barristan's side.

Aemma drew most of the attention to her, she knew that. Her hair that once reached her bottom is now cut, barely touching her shoulders. Wearing only a tunic and trousers, a baldric that carries a sword on her right. But what stood out from her clothing is the cloak that she wears and the greatsword that's behind her.

The cloak that she wore was colored with lilac and a bit of white lines, bearing her House's sigil at the back. The greatsword looked simple enough if seen from far, but now Aemma's close enough, it's pommel consists of what may look like a star.

Aemma's presence wasn't enough to stop Barristan throwing his sword in front of the Kingsguard and tell Joffrey that he should melt it to add it to the others.

"Barristan. Wait for me," Aemma whispered. "Ser Aemma, it's a pleasure that you've arrived," said the man besides Varys, Littlefinger is what he's called.

"Your Grace," Aemma slightly bowed down her head, still showing respect, completely ignoring Littlefinger. It took a brief moment for Joffrey to voice out his thoughts. "We are appointing you to be one of the Kingsguard under my reign. I have heard that you've served my father well, even killing your own brother on behalf of his name." Silence prevailed, Aemma can be seen lost in deep thought. She looked over Barristan, who also seemed to be waiting for her to answer.

"I cannot accept it, Your Grace. The tradition doesn't allow the likes of me to serve as one. And, the man that is standing beside me is the perfect fit for the position. I-"

"Ignore the tradition. And he's too old, he can't protect me," Aemma was cut off by Joffrey. Hearing his answer made Aemma furious, basing a man's skill on the years that he had lived instead of what he has achieved. She did not fret to voice out her venom. "Then, I decline the offer, your Grace."

Gasps were heard all around the hall, even more shock when Joffrey is visibly furious about Aemma's answer. The new King stood up from the Iron Throne, fuming and gritting his teeth. "I am the King! You cannot defy me or my orders," Joffrey spat, "Give me her head!"

His guards abided, drawing out their swords as they slowly approached Aemma. Sandor quietly observed Barristan, to see if he would act to defend the Lady, but he didn't.

Aemma is known to have a splitting image and personality with his brother, a patience to withstand the Mad King, and loyalty to surpass everyone's. But even the most patient man in Westeros would be annoyed if they have been dragged into something that they have no part with in the beginning.

The Lady of Starfall is clearly irritated. _These men really want to fight,_ she thought. Having no choice, she drew out Dawn from her back, _I hope this works_ , she thought. The guards that were once slowly approaching her stopped, wary in their eyes. Seeing the reaction of the men, Aemma was clearly unimpressed by the lack of valor these men have. Instead, Aemma lowered her right hand and gave Dawn to Barristan momentarily.

"I'll make this quick." Aemma smiled apologetically. Still, when Aemma realized no one dared to move, she then took a step forward to the men. She was only stopped when Varys finally spoke up. "Ser Aemma, there's no need for violence. If you are to decline the King's offer, I assure you, you will be able to walk away from King's Landing unscathed."

"Then my decision has already been made." Aemma replied, she turned to Barristan and took off Dawn from his hands, offering her other sword in replace of his own. The silence inside the hall was unsettling, only the sound of the Barristan's armor could be heard, and their boots fading away as they walked far from the hell that they once stayed in.

Littlefinger made the initiative to dismiss the people that were around to witness the event, seeing that Joffrey cannot comprehend that two people defied him.

While beside him, Sandor watched and followed quietly when Joffrey decided to go to his chambers. _I must not lose her,_ he thought. It just came to him that he will no longer be able to see her, he will no longer be bothered by her. And the longer that he thinks about it, the more that he feels completely empty.

* * *

After the departure of the Aemma and Barristan, Joffrey then ordered Janos Slynt and three gold cloaks to seize the two, which made Janos the only one to return to the King. Barristan sold his horse, to which he bought himself and Aemma a cloak. He advised her to not wear her own cloak, as there's not that much Dayne that's lingering in the city, she agreed.

"I may have soiled myself earlier in the court," Aemma wheezed as she told Barristan what was going through her mind when they were cast away from King's Landing, "though I admit, I wanted them to step forward and fight." Barristan only gave her half a smile, his eyes searching Aemma's face as he desperately tried to remember what Ashara looked like.

"What happens now?" Aemma asked, they have settled for Flea Bottom as Varys informs them that Ned may be released after a day.

Barristan bit off the bread in his hand, "I thought of returning to Harvest Hall, but I fear that Joffrey might inflict them pain for a thing that I, alone, must experience. I will search for a King that is worthy to sacrifice my life. What about you?"

Aemma shrugged, "I'm still not certain, though I might stay here. I have sworn to Ned that I won't leave him and his daughters alone. I'll make sure that they will return to Winterfell, to where they belong." Eerily, Aemma sensed that someone was watching her. She scanned her surroundings, when she saw a figure leaning on a wall. Aemma was about to stand up when she saw it turned around and left.

* * *

Barristan left the city after what happened at the Great Sept. Him and Aemma witnessed the execution of an honourable man that they knew. The way his head was lifted by Joffrey's guard, Sandor, sickened Aemma to the bone, she cannot do anything but pray, and it made her hate herself even more.

The Lady Dayne had just talked with the Spider. Varys told her that she can no longer stay here for too long, and that there is nothing that she can do to take Sansa and Arya away from the city. 

Aemma was now praying at the Great Sept, ignoring the fact that this is the last place that she saw Ned alive. Surrounded by the Statues of the Seven, she collapsed on her knees before them. Aemma let her mind wander, remembering all of the things that she vowed to do, the people that she has killed, the people that she saw getting killed. Crouching, she clenched her fists and slammed it on the ground. It rushed all over her, and yet not a tear went down from her eyes.

"I told you to leave," a man spoke. The man who held Ned's head for everyone to see. "I am leaving," was all she could ever reply. Aemma slowly stood up from her position, then turned around to see the man. "They know you're still here, woman. They're now looking for you."

"Including you?" Sandor nodded. If it wasn't for her promise to Ned, she would have surrendered to the man who stands in front of her. And yet, she still carried on. Aemma was about to bring Dawn out but she was stopped by the Hound. "There's no need, I am letting you go. Just don't step a fucking foot on this city again." Acknowledging it, Aemma walked past him and left, but not before hearing out a few words from him.

"Alright, I'll wait for you."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've now got the time to... do this. Ha! Some of us nurses have been given time to rest, but we are advised to stay at the hospital to not further spread the virus. I miss home, although I know that all will be healed. So I'm posting this while we wait for our turn to go on duty. :) I hope you are all well in this dark times, we will all get through this and we will do our best to fight this.
> 
> xo


	5. Bᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ɢᴏɴᴇ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ

* * *

Months came by like a wind, Aemma found herself walking on the path to King's Landing, once again. She was heading North after she left Sandor at the Godswood when she came across Tyrion Lannister's path. Puzzled, Tyrion asked as to why she was leaving King's Landing.

"Ned Stark is dead. Ser Barristan Selmy has been dismissed as a Kingsguard, and I turned down the offer. I am heading North to pledge myself to Robb Stark." she quickly said.

Like everyone else, Tyrion is confused as being a Kingsguard is a position that is irrevocable, though he did not question it further. He did not let Aemma go, instead he offered her to serve as his bodyguard for a while, alongside Bronn. Aemma hesitated at first, but soon accepted it when she remembered that she had to save Sansa and Arya.

They were told that Joffrey was having a tournament in celebration of his nameday, Tyrion saw this as the perfect opportunity to let the others know that he had won the battle. He then led his men, including Bronn and Aemma, to walk where the tournament was being held.

When they arrived at the walls of the Red Keep, a lot of people were there watching the tournament, which made Aemma surprised as there was no blood in sight. The little Lord then caught the people's attention, except for Sandor's. His eyes were locked on Aemma, not caring if anyone might notice his shock. After all, all who comes across his path knows that he scowls at every person he sees.

He saw her laughing with Bronn, he knew well that the two would get along, even though the Lady Knight would usually hide her sarcastic and dark humoured side. Sandor recalled when Aemma squeezed the crotch of one of Ned's men because they were pestering her, stating that the man should be careful of his words just because his balls grew when they arrived at King's Landing.

Sandor was brought back to reality when Tyrion pointed a finger at him, he was telling his nephew that he'd grow just like Sandor, but only better looking. Tyrion was quick to say that Sandor doesn't like him, which prompted a sarcastic reply from Bronn.

"Can't imagine why."

A few exchanges over here and there between Tyrion, Joffrey, and Sansa, when the King noticed that Lady Dayne was with his uncle. "Why are you here?" Joffrey asked. "I gave her gold, nephew," Tyrion quickly intervened, "after all, Ser Aemma hasn't got much to do since the battle on the Trident is done. Could've used a feared knight then." he winked at Aemma, making her smile.

"Or is it because she is already missing the dog?" Joffrey snarled. While Joffrey's statement is based on the rumours that he has been told, Aemma could not help but feel a little surprised. She never knew that rumours could spread like a wildfire in King's Landing. Rumours that tell that she had been befriending Sandor for a while before her exile.

Thinking between words or actions, Aemma opted for the latter. She just smiled genuinely at Joffrey, much to his disdain. With the tension rising, Tyrion then ordered his men to move along, avoiding problems that would arise if Joffrey decides to wreak havoc.  
  


* * *

Despite the rumours, Aemma still kept on talking with Sandor, until it became a normal occurrence for both of them. Aemma speaks, Sandor grunts. They would usually talk at the Godswood, ranting about every action and things that Joffrey would do. Just like their routine, the two are now at Godswood again, talking about Sansa. "The little bird wouldn't budge," Sandor grumbled, "Joffrey had shown her the head of his father and then proceeded to order the bitch Trant to beat her repeatedly."

"Did you do anything?" Aemma asked. Sandor sighed deeply for a moment before answering. "Aye, I stopped her from pushing Joffrey off the bridge. Good thing the cunt didn't notice her actions." Aemma sighed also, "she'll soon break. Wouldn't want that to happen, might make Ned come back to life just to kill me."

"What is your plan, then?"

"I already conspired with the Spider and Lord Tyrion, I will be leaving when Stannis' fleet arrives at Blackwater. Until then, I shut my mouth 'till I get Sansa out of this shit city."

Silence prevailed, it was kind of expected, since Sandor's not that much of a talker. Even whistling of the wind can be heard, no one dared to break the peace that's surrounding them. _Too peaceful,_ Sandor thought. "Have you ever thought of leaving King's Landing?"

An odd question to ask, but it sure did make Sandor look at Aemma. She is now staring at him, searching his face for an answer. "No. Why'd you ask?"

"I-" she stopped herself from talking and laughed. Aemma then shook her head, dismissing the question that she just gave Sandor. _An odd one despite her reputation,_ Sandor said to himself. Once again, they allowed the stillness of their world to do the talking.

Sandor was staring into nothingness when he felt Aemma shorten their distance. The Lady Dayne did something unexpected, she held Sandor's hand, which made him pull his hand away. Aemma reached into his hands one more when Sandor angrily shouted at her. "What the fuck do you want, woman?"

Aemma's pain was painted across her face, the Hound felt guilt. He did not mean to make her hurt, though his actions said otherwise. Sandor was about to say something when a cough was heard from the path behind them. Tyrion and Bronn seemed to have witnessed the whole event.

"Ser Aemma, I need you at the moment. Will that be alright with you, Clegane?" the little Lord asked. "Of course. I was just about to leave also," Aemma swiftly replied, not giving Sandor a chance to talk. "Forgive me, Sandor." she said quietly before she followed Tyrion and Bronn out of Godswood. The Hound is now left alone, wondering what did that woman eat to make her act like that towards him. _What has she gotten into,_ was all that Sandor thought of.

* * *

Varys, Bronn, Tyrion, and Aemma were all gathered at the Tower of Hand. Stannis was never the one to be underestimated, especially when it comes to war. The three are bantering about, while Aemma only gave them her one ear. She was lost in thought, torn between fighting a little before leaving or going straight to where Sansa's chamber is. But Aemma was distracted, she couldn't decide as Sandor's action still bothered her. _Did I cross the line?_ she asked. She was brought back to reality when Bronn clapped his hands in front of her.

"Did the cat get your tongue? Or should I say dog?" Bronn laughed hysterically at his joke, causing the remaining two to join him.

Aemma looked briefly at Tyrion when she raised a question. "Can you trust him?" she pointed at Bronn. Tyrion knew what Aemma was about to ask, but he nodded nonetheless.

"Will the King's troops guard every gate when Stannis' arrive?"

"Yes and no." Tyrion answered, "we will be needing more men at the Mud Gate. That's where Stannis will go."

"You can use Wildfire," Aemma turned her body, enough to face the three, "if you're that sadistic. And also, you might never know who will leave and who will betray you when Stannis' troops overrides your troops."

"You're leaving?" it was Bronn's turn now to ask a question, "what about The Hound? Saw you two having a quarrel, not even noticing us arrive."

"Oh for fuck's sake will you drop it off?" Aemma retorted but Varys added more fuel to the fire.

"So the whispers were true. Have you two..." the Spider trailed off, making Bronn and Tyrion look at Aemma, as if she was being questioned.

"No." was all she could say. "Not even a kiss?" Tyrion quipped.

"I swear to the Old Gods and New, I will relentlessly beat the three of you if you don't stop asking unimportant questions."

"It is an _important_ question, Ser Aemma." Varys teased, putting an emphasis to the word "important".

Aemma sighed. She knew better than to defend herself when talking to the three men. She got up from her seat, she dealt enough shit today anyway. "Wait, where are you going?" Aemma stopped in her tracks, she turned to answer Varys' question.

"Brothel. I might find someone there that wants to talk about anything but Sandor." This caused the three to howl, like a father witnessing his child walk for the first time. Shaking her head while she walked away, she heard one last jest from Bronn.

"I'll arrange the wedding for you two lots. Even the Hound deserves to be taken care of."  
  


* * *

Aemma arrived at Street of Silk, looking for an establishment with a sigil almost too familiar for her. Aemma did not have to look that long as she saw it almost immediately. Entering it hastily, some of the people who are inside turned to face her, especially Petyr Baelish. Smiling from ear to ear, Littlefinger approached Aemma.

"Hello, stranger. Pay with the coin, and you'll be catered according to your desires." Aemma looked intensely at Littlefinger before tossing three gold dragons, much to his pleasure. "I have the perfect man for you. A man that looks like him." Littflefinger's remark made Aemma want to slap him across his face, but then again, _who can ever escape the eyes of Littlefinger?_

She just nodded at Littlefinger's offer. He brought out the man that he talked about, he was nothing like Sandor. But, who is she to ask for a man that looks like him? Let alone, have Sandor as her own.

* * *

A couple of days had passed, and just as Tyrion expected, Stannis' army came at night. They now stand at the walls inside the Mud Gate, waiting for the boat filled with wildfire to come close to Davos' fleet. Joffrey was pestering his uncle about why they haven't charged against the incoming army, when Tyrion looked at him for a quick moment. He also caught Sandor looking around, as if he's searching for someone.

Bronn and Aemma were somewhat far away from the gate, waiting for Tyrion to drop the torch. They were bickering with each other ever since the bell rang earlier, informing that Stannis and the fleet had arrived.

"I hope I hit the damned trail. I never was a good archer," Aemma randomly said, breaking their banter. Bronn only laughed, Tyrion had said that he is to accompany Aemma on lighting the trail of wildfire. Though it was only an excuse to give clearing for Aemma's escape.

"Where're you gonna go?" Bronn asked, cleaning his nails with his dagger as they waited.

"No particular place yet. You've got any suggestions?"

"I'd go to where the cheap brothels are, not sure if it'd work the same for you now that you've really got someone in your eye," he smirked, "and as I see it, your visit to the brothel did not work out for you."

"Being in a brothel isn't exactly where I wanted to go after this. The joys of being five-and-twenty and not having to know what will I do," Aemma sighed. Her words were sincere enough to make Bronn look at her.

He was about to talk back when they both saw Tyrion's signal. With their synchronized madness, both lit up their arrow and looked at each other. "I guess this is farewell, Bronn," the two smiled at each other, Bronn parting his lips as it made way to his own farewell. "Likewise, Aemma."

The two let go of their arrow, watching both the arrow hit the trail left by the boat. A massive green fire erupted from the incinerated boat, it slightly pushed back the two, and almost destroyed half of Stannis' fleet.

When the ordeal was done, Aemma tapped Bronn's back before running away. To think that that type of weapon exists, she can't imagine the destruction that it'll bring should that be made accessible for every Kings and Queens. Aemma saw Sandor lead his men outside the gates, counter attacking Stannis'.

While she was making her escape, she made sure that at least she'd kill some of the opposing men. Aemma was slashing her way out of the battle when she noticed a stunned Sandor, staring at a burning man who's charging at him. She was about to rush at his side when an arrow shot down the attacker, she looked behind and saw Bronn slightly shrugged. Aemma nodded and continued her retreat.

* * *

Aemma is desperately trying to find Sansa, she hasn't seen Shae so she doesn't have a clue where to begin looking. Losing hope, Aemma ran to Sansa's chambers where she saw the Hound emerging from inside. The scene made her clench her jaw. She continued to walk fast just to reach the chambers, expecting the worst outcome when Sandor grabbed her arm to stop her.

"Don't waste your time. She won't leave." Sandor rasped. "How do you know she won't?" Sandor spat just beside him, clearly drunk of wine. "I offered her to go with me. She replied that this is where she belongs now, with his beloved Joffrey." Aemma raised an eyebrow, "If you want to leave, let's leave now. I'm sure the Imp will take care of her." he said nonchalantly.

She tried to yank her arm away from his grip, but the Hound wouldn't budge. He pulled her close, staring directly into her eyes. "Be stubborn in the middle of a war and you'll be dead before you even know it." he said, slowly letting her arm go.

Tears were nearing to fall off Aemma's face, she took one last look at Sansa's door before turning away and followed Sandor.

* * *

Aemma and Sandor were riding peacefully along the path to Kingsroad. Sandor decided to accompany Aemma to Winterfell, solidifying her vow that she spoke to Ned before he was executed. When he asked why not head straight to Starfall, she just looked straight at the path. Once again, her pain was visible in her face.

Most of the times were quiet, no one dared to speak up. Other times, Sandor would hear Aemma suddenly sing songs, with Jenny of Oldstones being repeated. It was kind of funny to Sandor, as she would sometimes sing as if she were drunk, sometimes sing it from her heart. And when Aemma sang the song for the fifth time, Sandor deeply sighed while shaking his head.

"I sometimes wonder why you are feared by all." His statement made Aemma laugh hard, causing her to fall from the horse that she had stolen. Sandor quickly dismounted from Stranger to help Aemma get up from her fall. He knelt down beside her, watching, her eyes closed and still laughing even though the fall made an impact on her.

"You're a crazy woman, aren't ya?" This prompted Aemma to open her eyes, meeting with him. She smiled softly, "You sometimes gotta see the fun in madness, Sandor."

"It doesn't mean to fall off of your horse and still laugh like mad, you twat." Aemma sat up, not taking her eyes from Sandor. "I've got you now, don't I? Would be fun to have a Clegane at my back, stopping me from crazy shit that my mind thinks."

Realizing what she had just said, Aemma turned her eyes away from Sandor, hiding her reddened face from him. While the other just stared at her.

"Come now, it'll get dark soon. Might as well stay at the Trident's forest for a while." Sandor nodded. He helped her mount the horse, holding her hand in the process. This action had caused Aemma to turn her face red more. He pretended to ignore what she had just said, but inside his mind, questions were raising like wildfire.

Once they reached the Trident, they wasted no time in setting their makeshift camp. Sandor volunteered to go fetch some wood while Aemma took the initiative to hunt for some food. When Sandor returned, he noticed Aemma now out of her armor, wearing the clothes she had worn when Barristan was dismissed.

Sandor handed her the pile of wood for the fire, while she handed a couple of fish that she had caught. They were silent the whole time up until Aemma decided to ask how Sandor got his scar. He hesitated at first, but agreed to tell when Aemma told her that she'll tell her story.

Aemma was listening closely, how his brother dragged him and pushed his face against the fire. His voice filled with sadness, the way he talks about his father covering his son's actions. He then fell silent, pain still in his eyes. Sandor was staring at the fire, lost in his thoughts. He felt naked, telling the story of his scar. The very reason why almost all people degrade him, the reason why they couldn't look at him. Promising to tell her own, Aemma breathed deeply before she began to speak, causing Sandor to turn his attention towards her.

"They'd always tell me that I am the same as my brother, though I beg to differ. You do well know of Lord Eddard Stark," the lady knight straightened her posture, "it was him that I first saw at that damned tournament of the Whents. Whispers I've heard that I am to be wed to their youngest, Benjen, yet at that time I'd find myself dreaming of being Ned's betrothed. The quiet wolf never saw me as his lover, rather he saw me as his sister. I was young, so I believed him for a moment," Sandor looked at Aemma for a while, pain rushing through her, "until I saw him with my sister, our sweet Ashara. Oh, how I was overtaken by jealousy. Tears slid down on my cheek that night, and my brother, Arthur, held me as he comforted me all through the night. I never thought that that very hug of his would be the last."

She felt her throat tightened at that memory, but she had promised Sandor her own story. "I knew that Ned would look for her sister. I knew that Arthur would be guarding at that tower. I tell you, I've never felt torn that day. Still, I chose Ned and I chose to despise my sister. I led them there, at Tower of Joy. It was the Smiling Knight all over again, but this time the crazed knight won," she took a deep sigh, "I won. Yet what did I get? A dead sister, and a brother. And now, a headless friend."

Sandor knew that there was no other way to make their conversation light again. Even if he did try, it would come out just the way his view of the world they're in. He had let the sounds of the insects drown her crying, and the wind to lull him to sleep, away from his urge to protect the lady knight with his arms wrapped around her.

* * *


	6. Oᴅᴅ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ ᴛᴏ sᴇᴇ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ

* * *

A rustle of the grass woke up Aemma from her slumber, she groggily turned to her side when a cough stopped her. Irritated, she opened her eyes, welcoming the sight of Sandor bound with rope and five men behind him. All staring at her, seemingly waiting for her to wake up.

Aemma took a quick glance to where the greatsword rests, but a man with his sword drew out held up his finger.

"There won't be violence today, m'lady." he said. With no strength to face these men, Aemma threw her head back and raised both of her hands, implying that they might as well bound her along Sandor.

Once again, while they were led by the men, Sandor quietly banters with Aemma. "You should've ran for your sword, woman." Aemma sighed, "Not everything can be solved with violence, Sandor." Sandor chuckled while Aemma glared at her. "Your mercy will be the reason for your death." Not wanting to argue anymore, Aemma turned to speak with the men as to where they intend to bring them.

"We're bringing you at the Crossroads." _ Oh, what a wonderful time to reminisce, _ Aemma thought. With nothing left to do, she just took her time to appreciate her surroundings.

Moments passed by, they arrived at the said Inn. Arya was wandering around when she saw the other members of the Brotherhood walking with a tied Sandor and Aemma. Her and Aemma soon met eyes, to the latter's surprise. She briefly looked at Sandor then turned her gaze back at Arya. She signalled for Arya to hide away from where they are walking, as she knew that it is better for Arya to go travelling unrecognized.

The two are now brought inside the Inn. Sandor had just finished trading insults with Thoros, a man with a top-knot for his hair, when Arya was noticed by Sandor. He asked them what they were doing with her, causing Aemma to kick him on his leg. With Arya's cover blown up, Thoros then declared that they are leaving now, stating that their leader is waiting for their arrival. Hoods were given to Arya, Gendry, and Aemma as the place that they are travelling are "too full with lions." They did not ask questions anymore.

As the carriage carried them away to where they were heading, Aemma found herself getting sleepy by the cradling of the horses and the path itself.

* * *

A gentle nudge was all that Aemma felt, pulling her from her once again interrupted sleep. Noticing that they have arrived, the place that they are in is dark, with only fire as their light. Still hands bounded with rope, she struggled to get up from her sleeping position. A man ordered his men to help Aemma get up. Strangely, she was sure that she had heard that man's voice before. Deciding whether she should be cautious or not, she opted for the latter.

"Speak again, the one who ordered to help me get up."

"It's nice to meet you again, Lady Aemma. Take her hood off."

As her hood has been removed, so is her curiosity. Standing before her was Beric Dondarrion, the man who was betrothed to her younger sister, Allyria. The two smiled at each other, genuinely for the first time, as they shared great moments before Beric, along with her nephew Edric, left for Blackhaven.

"I thought we'd lost you, Dondarrion. My sister-"

"Aye, your sister. How is she? It's been so long since..." Beric trailed off. Aemma went towards Beric to comfort him, but she immediately remembered that her hands are still tied.

Sandor muttered something, catching everyone's attention. Beric turned to face Aemma again. "What are you doing with The Hound?" he asked. "That's none of your fucking business." Sandor growled, "What the fuck do you want with us?" Aemma smiled apologetically, Beric understood. After all, Sandor is known to have a foul mood, whether it be sober or drunk.

Arya answered Sandor's question. This made everyone tell all of the crimes that House Clegane did, crimes that his brother mostly made. They were shoving at his face the loyalty that he once had for the Lannisters, but even if that's the case, he's not at fault for what he had done back then. Until Arya spoke, the girl clearly remembered her friend. Mycah, was his name, that Sandor did kill because Joffrey said so. Sandor did not deny it, that's why Beric set him up for a trial-by-combat.

The trial went on, though she knew that the Hound's skill surpasses Beric. She watched the two men fight, when her mind trailed off to the place where she avoids the most. She was lost in her own mind, Beric saw this. So did Sandor. Unfazed, faces of men that she had killed, including her brother, kept flashing on in her vision. The screaming went alive, in her own world. Hands trembling, she clenched her jaw hard. She wanted to run, but her body frozen stuck to where she was standing. It was only when they went silent that made her mind be brought back to reality. In front of her lay Beric, left arm almost detached from his body. After he extinguished the shield that's burning, Sandor quickly rushed to her.

"Are you alright, Aemma?" he asked, touching her face. Shocked by his actions and the fact that he called her by her name, Aemma nodded.

"Stay with us for the night." said Beric, who rose up from the dead. Still in a trance, Aemma agreed to Beric's offer. Knowing the man well enough to trust him.

The Brotherhood, Aemma, and Sandor are all huddled in a fire that Gendry made. Aemma is seated in the middle of Sandor and Beric. Sandor was completely bothered by her unusual quietness, her repulsive singing that made her pass time, all of it was gone in an instant. He was about to strike a conversation with her when Beric started to speak. Jealousy slapped Sandor.

"Aemma, does it still bother you?" the one-eyed man asked. Aemma smiled, "which one? I've lost count."  _ She's still here,  _ Sandor thought. This made him a bit relaxed. Beric stared at her for a moment. "Arthur. Ashara. And the recent one you've told me."

"Not a day goes by that I don't dream of them begging for me. I haven't heard my sister and brother beg, but my dreams made it come true. And for Blackwater?"

"Blackwater?" Sandor said, curiosity in his face. "I was there with Bronn. I wish there could've been any other way than Wildfire." the three went silent. Sandor was getting more and more enamoured with her, the way she speaks with honesty. Her solemnity. Her toughness. He envied her way of embracing things, even the ones that she did wrong.

Beric noticed the look that Sandor had for Aemma.  _ Just like me and her sister,  _ he happily said to himself. "I forgot now what she looks like," Beric stated, "just her eyes I remember. Like yours."

"She still waits for you, I have been told."

"Will you go back to your home?" Aemma shook her head. "Do not let it consume you, you can still start a new life."

"I am dead to them, Dondarrion. And I'd like to keep it that way." Aemma said, a hint of sadness in her voice. She notices that Sandor had been watching her the entire time, an unreadable expression in his face. She then smiled at him and said, "I'll go sleep now, Sandor. Wake me up if you happen to be up before me." Aemma then laid down, quickly falling asleep.

Sandor was watching her sleep peacefully, her frown not fading away. He smiled to himself, the thought of them travelling to God's know where, it makes him forget what he was and what he had done.

"She needs you, Clegane." Beric interrupted his thoughts. Sandor just raised his eyebrows, "I used to look at her sister like that. And her sister would look at me the same. You may be older than us, but I know better."

"She doesn't need me, dumb cunt." Sandor retorted.

* * *

As Beric promised, they let Sandor and Aemma go. They even went far to give the two some food and mead, which is Sandor's doing.

Haven't been able to get that far away from Hollow Hill, Sandor commanded his stallion to be able to get closer to Aemma. Huffing, he cleared his throat. "How did that man and your sister end up together?" he asked.

"I do not know, really." Aemma answered truthfully, "rather, I cannot remember how. I've been walking around Westeros like a dead woman, Sandor."

"It's only one time that you did it, unlike me." he retorted. Sandor was about to add something when he held his hands in front of Aemma to stop. Catching his drift, the two went down on their horses, observing their surroundings. The wind was still, not a muscle moved when the person following us screamed, attacking Sandor. Failing in the process.

"Arya!" Aemma exclaimed, rushing to the girl who had fallen from attacking the Hound.

"Little cunt." Sandor muttered through his teeth, which earned him a death glare from Aemma. "What are you doing here? I thought you stayed with the Brotherhood?" she asked the young wolf.

"They sold Gendry," Arya panted, "I did not know where to go, so I ran away from them. I got scared." Aemma walked towards Arya then pulled her into a hug. "I got you now, Arry. I've got you now."

Sandor was silent when he watched the two ladies have their moment.  _ If only he was that kind,  _ he thought about his brother. He was about to disrupt their moment when an idea came to his mind.

"Let us rest for now, got tired from fighting that one-eyed cunt anyway." Aemma nodded, Arya still latching on to her arms. The two haven't known each other that much, but Arya knows a lot more than Sansa, even if she's the one who's always with Aemma. And the way that his father talks about the woman, Arya knew that he respected her, even if she always heard Aemma say that she's not the one to be respected.

When they had finished setting up the fire, the two found Arya fast asleep, giving them a chance to talk about where they planned to go now.

"The Twins. Her family will be there." Sandor stated. As much as Aemma wanted to protect the remaining Starks, she wanted them to be reunited also. The two remained quiet for the rest of the evening, sometimes exchanging words but not enough to be considered a conversation. When Sandor decided that he'd ask something, he found Aemma asleep, still sitting. He then stood up and walked to where she was seated, proceeding to carry her to a much comfortable sleeping position. Sandor was about to distance himself when he heard Aemma mutter in her sleep. "Don't" was all he heard. He caressed her face, removing a strand of hair on her cheek. His eyes fell on her lips, calling for him to feel it. It left him dumbfounded, but his reasoning won and he left her side, sleeping on his own spot.

* * *

First light came, the three of them set off to ride towards The Twins. Arya was saddled up between Aemma's arms while Sandor was alone. She first offered Arya to ride with him, saying that he can run his horse faster than her if ever they got attacked, but Arya declined, replying that she cannot ride the same horse who killed her friend. Sandor just looked at her then shook his head, rebutting that he must be the one to refuse as Arya had tried to smash his head with a rock earlier. Aemma just laughed, knowing that their endless bickering has started.

Not having the chance to spend time with Aemma alone, Sandor quietly listened to the two talk about everything that comes to Arya's mind. He seemed to enjoy it, though. Hearing her talk to the child with ease, he thought that her stained name would be not gentle towards people. A thought crossed Sandor's mind, imagining she would be more gentle towards her children. A smile painted on his lips.  _ She'd be the kindest mother there is,  _ Sandor said to himself.

"What was father like back then?" Sandor heard Arya ask Aemma. She just smiled, like she would always do. "Fine man. Many had been swoon by your father, even if he appears to have a frozen heart. Ned doesn't like killing, either. Only if he's been ordered to." Aemma briefly looked up, as if she's remembering something, "others used to tease Ned and I, mostly Robert, saying if I haven't married in the years to come, he'll force us to marry."

"Aemma!" Arya exclaimed. "It's true," she said while she let out a hearty laugh, "it was because of his eyes, that they fell in love with and hated him for it. He was never the one to speak, and if he did speak, he lets his eyes talk for him."

Arya looked at Aemma carefully after she spoke, then looked at Sandor. "Is it the same reason why you fell in love with the Hou-" Aemma put her hands on Arya's mouth, cutting her words off. Sandor felt his heart jump, so did Aemma. Arya was laughing beneath Aemma's hand.

"You have a keen eye to see through me, I'll give you that." Aemma said as she removed her hand from Arya's mouth, "but love is not a wise thing to choose when you're in the middle of a war."

The three went silent after that conversation. Aemma, who is now just realizing that she had confessed her love to Sandor, slightly blushed at the thought of it, but then worried when she had not heard a single thing from him since her conversation with Arya.

"Father told me you only know one song by heart, and you'd sing it often." Arya broke the ice, the two with their attention to the child.

"I'd sing it whenever we pass by at Riverlands back then. Such a sad song, don't you think?" Arya nodded.

"Sing it for us, woman." Sandor, who was seemingly quiet earlier, spoke. "It might draw attention to us, it wouldn't be wise to do it." Aemma answered. "You were singing a bunch of them before we got fucking caught by the Brotherhood. Why not now?"

"If it's only us, Sandor, I would gladly sing it for you. I don't want to risk safety right now, not with Arya around." Sandor huffed, but regretted it when he heard Aemma speak again. "I promise, I'd sing it if it's only us. After all of this is finished."

The group was already nearing at The Twins when they spotted a wagon full of pork. Sandor went down from his horse and tried to lure the man to let his guard down, which he successfully did and knocked out the man. Sandor was about to end the man's life when he was blocked by Arya. Bickering had again started between the two and Aemma just stared at them defeatedly.

"That could make a good disguise." Aemma said, finally the two had stopped jabbing at each other with words. "Aye," Sandor agreed, "you'll be staying here girl while we talk with your mother and brother."

"We? You're not dragging me into going to that castle." Aemma snorted. "Yes I am. You're going with me, the Starks doesn't trust a man like myself." Sandor replied, grabbing a chunk of pork to eat while they rest for a bit. In the end, they decided that the three of them would go, posing as a smallfolk family.

Silence fell upon Sandor as he ate, letting the women talk when he heard Arya tease Aemma. "I heard them say that the Kingslayer has his eyes on you," the young Stark said with a smile on her face. Without ale to steer Sandor's attention, he gripped the pig's leg before deciding to speak. "So it's true that you've been fucking the Kingslayer," Sandor blurted out.

Whatever Aemma was doing that moment, she seemed to have stopped as the words left Sandor's mouth. Aemma stared at Sandor while he never bothered to look up to her, savouring the food that is in his hands. "Tell me, Sandor," Aemma started, "is that how it went when you were Cersei's sworn shield? You first landed your eyes on her, then suddenly, she let you fuck her bloody. Is that it?" 

Sandor only did as much as to stand, trying his best to intimidate Aemma with his size. Yet, Aemma didn't flinch when he stepped closer to her. "You better be careful in what you believe in, Sandor. I'm not one to take accusations lightly," Aemma stated as she walked away from the two.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Oh no," you say.  
> Oh yeah, I replied.
> 
> hello, hello. how are y'all?


	7. Aᴡᴀʏ

* * *

As they drew near from The Twins, Aemma cannot help but feel that something is off. She insisted to Sandor that both him and Arya should just stay, and that she'll personally talk with the Starks. When asked why, she just told Sandor that it'll be easier for them to run off if there really is danger lurking around.

"I've thought about this just now. I'm not leaving you alone in that damn castle, woman." was all Sandor said, shutting her up.

Robb Stark's army was settled just outside the castle, assuming that the feast had ended. Aemma was looking around carefully, clutching Arya in her arms. Arya can tell that Aemma is bothered by the peacefulness of their surroundings. The two were just silently waiting as Sandor talked with the guards at the gate. They were dismissive of him, aggressively telling him to leave.

A sharp whip of the wind, almost like an arrow being shot, caught Aemma's attention. She quickly turned around to see what it was, but there was nothing. This moment gave Arya to escape from her two companions, the urge of getting close to her family again was rushing through her mind. And when Aemma turned her head back to Arya, she was gone in an instant.

"Sandor!" she whispered harshly, "Arya, have you seen her run away?"

"No. Come, let's look for the little girl."

Hooding herself up, Aemma cautiously walked around the place when she heard men scream. Turning her head around, she saw all of the Starks men getting brutalized by the Freys. Worry soon overtook her, she wanted to scream Arya's name. She wanted to find her. But as if the Gods heard her, a tap came from her shoulder.

"It's too late. We have to get out of here." Sandor said, carrying an unconscious Arya in his arms. Aemma quickly got on her horse, following Sandor's lead. He told her to get one of the Frey flags to avoid suspicion, and when they were nearing the exit, Sandor abruptly stopped. Burning men running around, tents slowly turning into ashes, this caused him to froze for a moment.

"This way, Sandor." Aemma spoke while she turned her horse around when a bunch of men started chanting "King in the North", as they grew closer, Sandor and Aemma saw Robb's decapitated body with a direwolf's head attached to it. Aemma gritted her teeth in rage, a disrespect she cannot fathom, while Sandor just stared with disgust on his face. He then noticed that Arya had woken up, he felt sorry for the girl to see such things that the other men did to her family.

Not speaking a word, he chose to run away through the burning path.

* * *

The events followed after at The Twins didn't make the three rest. Fight after fight, Arya and Sandor never got tired of speaking ill towards each other, especially the thing that Sandor did to the poor man and his daughter. Aemma sided with Arya on that matter, to Sandor's annoyance, though Aemma didn't speak that much when the matter was brought up for a hundred times.

Clearly, the two were tired, so was Aemma. Sandor and Arya are still arguing when Aemma just stopped her horse abruptly and made a makeshift fire to warm them up. The two didn't even bother to question it, they just followed her and made themselves comfortable.

"Where're you from?" Arya asked Aemma, who was staring at the fire again like a hypnotized snake.

"Starfall."

"Where is that? Is that on Dorne?"

"Yes, the land of the hot-blooded people." Aemma jokes. Arya looked at her for a few moments, "You don't look like Dornish, you look like us."

Aemma nodded, "I think I also lost my accent too."

"How do you live without fucking?"

This made Sandor frown and squint his eyes, while Aemma laughed loudly at Arya's random question. She thought that the Dornish have made themselves known as sexual fiends.

"You've spent too much time with Sandor, you're starting to talk like him. No, we're not fond of that idea." Aemma said, "I remember an old friend of mine, he used to say that Dornish people just always wants to fight and fuck, fuck and fight. Maybe I'll try that one day, when this shit war has ended and I have chosen a man to marry."

"Why not him?" Arya pointed at Sandor. "Sandor hates me, I think." Aemma casually replied, causing Sandor to look at her straight in the eye, as if he's trying to tell her something.

"Where are we going now, Sandor?"

"Eyrie, to her aunt. Sure she'll pay for her niece's sake."

Arya stared at Sandor with hate, Aemma doesn't know why, though it is natural for her to think that way as she is too young to understand why Sandor did that to the butcher's boy. The three settled in for the night after a few conversations, mostly Arya and Aemma talking about the latter's origin.

* * *

A lot of arguing and travelling had passed, they now stood at the bodies of the men who tried to attack them, one biting Sandor in the neck. They were talking to an old man, whose hut has been burned down by the same men who attacked Sandor. Aemma started to dig a grave for the old man when she was approached by Sandor.

"Are you going?" he asked.

Digging furiously, she barely turned to face Sandor to answer him. "The old man seemed honest. I might go after we reach Eyrie."

"Why would Stannis want you?" he continued to ask, curiosity in his mind.

"He knows I fought by his brother's side during the Greyjoy Rebellion. I also heard he wants me to be a part of his army, sending ravens to me every day." Aemma says, a few beads of sweat falling from her forehead.

Sandor walked closer to her, "Why didn't you?"

Aemma just shrugged. Sandor observed Aemma for a while, her facial expression doesn't say much, just like his brother. He heard stories about the man and her sister, they were right, they were a perfect copy of each other. The Aemma he saw that was in King's Landing was the other side of her, having fun and alway smiling. The Aemma that stood before him now was much like her brother, he is said to speak less, a humble one. The difference is that Aemma's loyalty resides where she deems it should be, her brother's loyalty resided to his friend.

Sandor's attention was now turned to Aemma, who was apparently asking her a question.

"Will you go with me?" Aemma asked, already finished the grave she dug for the old man. Sandor took the initiative to carry the body of the old man, giving him at least some respect.

Sandor shook his head, "I'm thinking of going to Braavos, might be a sellsword. Who knows."

"You don't want to at least fight one good battle?"

"And be led by a cunt?"

"A lesser cunt than Joffrey, I'm sure you'd agree."

He threw the shovel after they put the man in his final place. Aemma followed Sandor, seemingly tired from the deed she had just done. Arya was again practising with her sword, Needle, when the two sat down to watch her.

After a few hours, they continued to ride on to Eyrie. Sandor was extremely uncomfortable with his wound on his neck. He kept on scratching it, relieving himself on the pain. Arya first suggested cauterizing it, but he shouted at her to stop talking. Aemma didn't want to go in between them, as she knew that he didn't want to tell his story about how he got his scar. The two soon reconcile when Arya offers to at least help lessen the infection on his neck.

* * *

Arya was laughing uncontrollably when they were told that her aunt Lysa is dead. Sandor just stared straight while Aemma scratched her head. Now that there is no one to turn to for Arya's safety, Sandor chose to travel with her for the meantime.

"Why couldn't I come with you?" Arya asked Aemma, who is preparing for her departure.

Aemma knelt down in front of Arya, "I don't know Stannis that much. And it'll be safer for you to stay with Clegane. Surely, he can protect you better than I can."

Hearing this made Sandor gruff and shake his head. "We'll meet again, Arry. Don't worry, alright?" Arya nodded. Aemma walked towards Sandor, his face grim.

Aemma held Sandor's hand, his calloused palm meeting hers. "Protect her for me, Sandor."

"What do you think I'm doing, woman?" he replied, making Aemma laugh a bit. "Then protect her even more." Sandor nodded, looking down at his feet.

Without thinking, Aemma lifted up Sandor's face and kissed his lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck while he wrapped his around her waist, pulling Aemma close. They both treasured this moment, not wanting to break free from each other's grip. And when they did, they both just stared at one another, her purple eyes embedded on his own. The pair were interrupted by Arya coughing, causing Aemma's face grew red.

Sandor and Arya led Aemma to her horse, and when she mounted, she both bid the two farewell. "I wish you two good fortunes on the days to come." The two nodded, watching Aemma ride away but noticed that she stopped.

"I'll come find you, Sandor."

And with that, she made her stallion run, disappearing into the forest.   
  


* * *

Travelling day and night, Aemma almost made no stop at riding towards Castle Black. While en route there, she once again encountered the Brotherhood Without Banners. Beric took her immediately when they saw each other at the Trident.

"You're alone. Why?" Beric asked his in-law, who's eating fast due to hunger.

"He wouldn't go with me, so I left him with Arya. It's better that way, since I don't want them to get caught in the middle of what Stannis plans to do." Aemma spoke in between bites of her food, "You? Why are you still here?"

"Not for long. We're waiting for the right moment, Lady Dayne." Beric replied, throwing the wineskin that he had with him.

"Your Lord told you?" Aemma teased, breaking out a small smile on her lips. Beric chuckled at her statement, "You're starting to sound like him." It was Aemma's turn now to chuckle, shaking her head she slid the wineskin back to Beric. "Not really."

They sat directly at the fire silently, it's not like they see each other often. Beric glances at Aemma and is mildly puzzled by the expression that dawns over her face. He looked down at her hands, clutching intently at the hilt of Dawn.

When her mind was brought back to reality, she stood up and straightened her posture. "When you see him, give him this." Aemma took out her cloak that bears the sigil of the House that she came from. "I have to leave now, Beric."

Beric slightly nodded, understanding her urgency to leave for Castle Black. He took the cloak from her hands as if it was a fragile thing that she's handing him. Beric walked her out of their camp, cherishing every moment that they had. For him, Aemma's the only one who can make him remember what his lover looks like now, even if she looks a little bit like Aemma. Bidding their farewells for now, they hugged each other. A moment of sincerity for both of them.

"Stay alive when we meet again, Aemma." Beric said, face contorted with sadness.

"You too. Good fortunes and farewell, Beric."

He watched her as she saddled on her horse and went away to continue her journey.  _ May the Lord of Light guide you,  _ he prayed silently.   
  


* * *

A man was walking along the wall of Castle Black, they are ordered to station by Stannis' commands, while the men of Night's Watch are in the process of choosing their new Lord Commander. As soon as Master Aemon was about to cast his vote, a man shouted to open the gates. Some stood up to rush to see who it was, but they were soon ordered by Jon Snow to sit down and continue the voting.

Aemma knew that the Northmen were wary of her presence, let alone the sword that she carries strapped in her back. Looking around for a moment, she then went down from her horse, searching for the man who wanted her to fight for him.

"Ser Aemma. Good to see you again." a voice called, turning around she saw a face that she once saw back then.

Smiling, Aemma drew her breath for a moment. "Ser Davos. I could say the same thing." they both shook hands as their distance shortened.

"I wish we could've fought side by side when we attacked at the Blackwater." turning their heads around, Stannis walked towards them, his face stern, composure unwavering. A true Baratheon, indeed.

"I wish there could have been another way, my lord. But we mustn't linger on the past." Aemma met Stannis with respect, there's no use to smiling and faking her emotions whenever she meets someone higher than her. She's not on King's Landing's anymore anyway.

Stannis, letting go of his grip, scanned the woman briefly before motioning to her to follow him. "I'm glad you made it. I've been asking for you everywhere, since I heard the news that you left the whiny King on his own."

She laughed at his statement, "Yes, my Lord. I intend to leave this kind of life, yet I think that dream of mine can wait."

"Well, let us meet the others so you can meet them."   
  


* * *

An ordained Septon, who now left his past life as a soldier, was walking back to where they are building the Sept. He had found a man nestled in between the rocks of the Vale, he was wearing armor but no silver nor sword with him. Assuming that the dying man had no one left, the ordained Septon decided to take the man with him.  _ Anyone can be saved,  _ he thought.

When he reached the camp they had settled in, a couple of people rushed towards him, helping him carry the dying man he brought with him.

"Who is he, brother Ray?" the man asked the Septon, to which Ray shrugged. "I have found him, I ought him to be dead, but he coughed."

Not questioning Ray further, the men who are helping him carry the dying man called some of them to nurse the dying.

Ray looked at the man, he appears to be trying his all just to open his eyes. "Do you remember who you are?" Ray asked, almost whispering. The man tried to open his mouth to speak, but soon fell asleep due to fatigue. The Septon stood up, letting them carry him away for the others to heal the wounded. "You may live another day." he said to the wind, staring at the dying man.   
  


* * *

Months flew by since Aemma's arrival at Castle Black, since then Stannis became relentless on gathering people to fight with him for Winterfell. The Boltons still hold the place, and the longer that they wait to strike, the stronger that the Boltons get. Jon, Davos, and Aemma saw how eager Stannis was at retaking Winterfell, he even offered to legitimize Jon Snow, but the latter turned down his offer.

Having no other way, Stannis told all of his men to prepare to leave. He plans to attack the Boltons, not giving them a chance to improve their army. Aemma and Davos were the first one to be informed of this by the man himself.

"Dire consequences may welcome us, my Lord. Surely, we can wait for the storm to calm down a bit." Aemma said to Stannis, carefully watching him for his reaction.

Stannis breathed deeply, making the two uncomfortable with his unreadable emotions. "We have to leave. I cannot risk having the Boltons the upper ground, they know how to fight. And they fight without honor."

The two looked at each other, Davos tried to reason with Stannis earlier, but he dismissed it. Standing firmly on his decision. If Stannis hadn't known Aemma and Davos in a deeper sense, the two would have been sent to prison for questioning Stannis' plans.

When Stannis knew that Aemma and Davos had nothing to say, he left his tent and went to assemble his troops. The pair watched as their Lord gave his speech to his men.

"I hope he's right." Aemma muttered, propping herself to the table. Davos nodded, not even saying a thing. For that day, he felt extremely tired from battling verbally with Stannis. He isn't the one to back down, that Davos knows, but that stubbornness of him made Stannis fit for a great King.

As he finished, Aemma went out to prepare for their departure the next morning. She made sure to talk to Jon before leaving. The young man didn't know how to respond properly to her, Aemma was too kind. Jon recalled one time when he asked his father about her, to which Ned replied "Just like her brother, although she knows who to stand with and serve for, her loyalty cannot be bought." Thinking aboout this made him wonder if she's ever aware of the good and the bad that she's known for.

Aemma placed her hand on Jon's shoulder, "When the War has ended, I will take you with me, to visit Starfall. You'll like it there."

"I want to, but I can't," Jon started, "I am destined to live here. To die here."

She knew that, for sure. Aemma grinned at Jon, he grew up to be just like his father. But her mind lingered on to something. A promise that she had kept Ned. She dared not say a word, not even now. It feels too early, and she feels that she mustn't be the one to say so.   
  


* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When you thought you already posted a chapter a week after the last one, but turns out you didn't because you're having a brain-fart moment. Did that also happened to you? No? .... just me? Okay. ._.
> 
> Kind of free now to do whatever I want to do, but I still haven't started editing this. :D so bear with me yes?


	8. Fᴀᴛʜᴇʀ

* * *

_ "Father, please! Don't do this." _

It was those words that awakened Aemma from her sleep, within seconds it was followed by a scream. This made Aemma wide awake all of a sudden, grabbing the greatsword and jolting towards the source of the voice. When she reached there and saw who it was, she was stunned. Stood in front of a burning body was Stannis and his wife, Selyse. All of his troops were gathered around them, staring at what seemed to be the remnants of a body of a girl.

"Where's Princess Shireen? Davos, where is he?" Aemma said, almost shouting. She caught everyone's attention, including the Red Priestess. They all just stared at her, unable to even speak out a few words.

Melisandre, the Red Priestess, took a step away from the pyre. "The Lord of Light ha-"

"What in the seven hells did you do to the little girl?" Aemma cut Melisandre off, gritting her teeth out of anger.

"We sacrificed her, my Lady. This is what the Lord of Light wants us to do."

"A week! We've been out here for a week! And you chose to kill the little girl. An innocent little girl!"

"It has to be done."

Hearing this made Aemma sick. She pushed her way out of the crowd and let the remaining contents of her stomach flow through her mouth. Aemma killed countless people, that she's sure of. But the idea of burning a little girl. A little girl who never knew why they did that to her. That, she cannot fathom.

"He's on his way back to Castle Black." Aemma heard Stannis say, though she did not bother to turn her head to face him.

"Why?" was all she mustered. Stannis did not answer her, guilt rushing inside his head. Yet, his desperation still paved its way through his head.

* * *

_ He woke up in an unfamiliar place that is covered in snow. He looked around, desperately trying to get help from someone, but to no avail. Breathing deeply, he walked down the icy path barefoot, though he did not feel the coldness of it. For what it seems like hours, he then heard men screaming. He ran towards the noise, but he was met with two armies fighting each other. He can see that the army who was first to engage were exhausted. Anguish seething in their voices, he watched them fall down, one by one. He urged himself to walk over the dead bodies, when he saw two familiar faces. Though it is odd, they did not notice him walk towards them. _

_ "Run back to Castle Black, tell them of what had happened." The man said, his back rested on a tree. He appears to be bleeding, weariness in his voice. _

_ The woman held his head up high, encouraging him to fight and stand. "My Lord, you sought me out and I denied you of my service before. Now I stand beside you, I cannot leave you here. I have sworn to you-" _

_ "No. I dismiss you from your vow. Even though I admire you and want you to die fighting for me, I must let you live. For just this once, I can rest knowing that what I did is right." _

_ The woman was taken aback from what had the man just said to her. The woman's face was blank, though her eyes screams sadness. She then stood up, bowed one last time before saddling up to a horse nearby her. _

_ The man, garnering his last strength, shouted to the woman. "I'm now a dying King. Go, Aemma, I will never forget your deeds." _

* * *

Slowly opening his eyes, Sandor didn't move from his bed, he let his dreams sink into his mind for a while. For him, his dream felt too real to be forgotten, as if it was happening the moment before he opened his eyes. Sandor steadied himself for a while, preparing to whatever may be that he might face today.

When Sandor went outside, he saw that the other people had already started their duties. Men with their axes and hammer, women already cooking. He went towards a stump of tree to fetch his axe when he was stopped by Brother Ray.

"Still thinking about the Brotherhood? Or the woman you kept talking about?" Sandor growled at him, causing the Septon to laugh.

"They won't come back. We've got nothing for them anyway." Ray said, when he noticed that Sandor wasn't going to reply to either of his questions.

Picking up his axe, Sandor looked at Ray for a second before responding, "What if they do?"

"They won't. They'll just waste their time if they do." Ray huffed out of annoyance, though he understood why Sandor is acting this way. They both stood there for a moment, waiting for each other to speak up.

"I dreamt of someone. A woman," Sandor started, fiddling the axe that he is carrying, "She was in a battle. A man commanded her to go back to wherever it was."

"Maybe it was her," the Septon smiled, "Why don't you find her? Find your way to her and be with your lover again."

Sandor shook his head, "She's not my lover. I do not know if she's still alive after what I've dreamt, or if she still remembers me."

"She won't forget you if she truly loved you." With that, Ray left Sandor alone. He contemplated for a while, with Ray's statement ringing on his head. He then took off into the woods, distracting himself from wallowing too much about Aemma.

The sun was now high above when Sandor stopped for a moment, catching his breath after all the hacking that he had done. He took a swig of ale before resuming, but then he heard a loud scream coming from the village. Sandor knew that the Brotherhood will be back, he embraced his mind on what he was about to see. And he was right.

The scene that he had seen when he arrived was a total massacre. Not one food was taken, not one woman was unburdened. The tools that's being used to build the Sept were still there, and it made Sandor's hate consume himself once again when he saw the one friend that he considered hanging from the very Sept that they were building.

Anger is an understatement on what he felt that moment. Sandor only wanted to live a peaceful life, and everytime he comes close to it, it soon vanishes into thin air.

* * *

Aemma was reluctantly waiting at Castle Black when she heard the chamber doors opening. Jon, Sansa, and Davos greeted her with a half-smile as they settled themselves at the chairs.

Tapping her fingers, Aemma eyed the three carefully before speaking, "How many?"

"Not enough." Davos answered shortly, earning a sigh from Aemma.

"Jon," Aemma started, "I can still send a letter to Allyria, do not be hasty to attack."

"I don't want to drag House Dayne in this," Jon stood up, pacing relentlessly, "besides, it'll be weeks, even months, before they reach here. I don't want to risk that time."

"Ser Aemma's right," Sansa interrupted, "I know Ramsay enough, he knows how to wait patiently. It's what he does best, wait until you give in."

Jon slammed his hands onto the table, "I have made my decision, I will not let Ramsay take a hold of our brother and Winterfell anymore. A day before the attack, we will set out to have a parley with him."

Sansa just sighed at his half-brother's stubbornness. They all went out in their own ways when Davos decided to ask Aemma about what had happened to Stannis and Shireen. Aemma was visibly shaken. She just looked at him, trauma in her purple eyes.

"It is best not to bother with that thought for now." She said, not meeting Davos' eyes.

As his curiosity just grew bigger, he shook Aemma to snap her out of it. "I know you did nothing, just tell me what had happened."

She shook her head, her stare cold as ice. "I couldn't stop them, Davos. I didn't save her just in time."

Davos, letting go of Aemma's arms, stared into nothingness when he heard her statement. There's one thing now left to do for him to check if his suspicions and Aemma's statement are true.

* * *

Just like what Jon had said, they all met with Ramsay the next day. He and Sansa were the ones talking to Ramsay, while Tormund, Lyanna, Davos, and Aemma were at the back, listening intently to what they were saying. The others at the back noticed that Ramsay kept on looking at Aemma, as if he was studying her movements. This got Aemma curious, though she did not bother to show any emotions to feed off Ramsay's superiority.

The parley had finished their talk with Sansa giving a warning to Ramsay, indicating that none had agreed to give peace to each other. But before the two parties left, Ramsay had said something back, an evil grin plastered on his face.

"That's a nice sword you got, Ser."

Not turning back to look, the other Lords and Ladies observed Aemma's reaction, though there was none. They returned to Castle Black shortly, planning immensely on what they are planning to do for the siege. Sansa hadn't let go of holding back the attack for a while, whilst Aemma had just given up to encourage Jon at this point. The meeting was done when the two siblings passively argued about Jon's plan.

Aemma sat just outside their camp, waiting for Jon's signal when she was approached by Tormund.

"Still thinking about the Dog?" Tormund asked, passing the wineskin that he somehow acquired.

Nodding, Aemma took a big swig before answering, "Just how you think about the Big Woman."

"You also want to make babies with him?" Aemma bursted out laughing, her face red from Tormund's statement.

When Aemma arrived at Castle Black after Stannis ordered her, she wasn't talking to anyone but the Starks and Davos. She couldn't even recall how Tormund approached her, but she definitely remembers the great fun that they have when he's talking about his love for Brienne of Tarth. For Aemma, it was awkward at first, though their friendship grew stronger when she started talking about Sandor and how she would always send men just to find him.

"If he wants to, though I reckon he wouldn't agree with that." Aemma replied after letting her laughter die down.

Tormund raised his eyebrows. "Why not?" She just shrugged. It was true. It never came to her mind if Sandor has the same feelings towards her. Aemma stared at the fire that they had when Davos decided to join their talk.

"You wouldn't know if you had asked him." he said, squeezing himself in between them.

"Aye, it's true. I'll teach you how when the Big Woman comes back." it was now Davos' turn to chuckle. Tormund didn't shy away from showing his affection to Brienne, although the latter isn't also shying away from showing him her confusion.

"If he's alive, then I'll ask him. Right now, we have a battle ahead of us. If we survive, I'll bring our army here to Winterfell." Aemma said, standing up to leave their spot.

"Where are you going?" Davos said, "I just got here. It'll be a long night for us."

"I'll sleep now, before I decide to pay the Red Priestess a visit."

Davos remembered his purpose on why he's still up. When they saw Aemma went to her own tent, he then stood up. Tormund offered Davos to come with him to drink, but Davos denied, saying that he'll walk for a bit to clear his mind. And he did. He walked towards where he last knew Stannis had set up their camp. He walked until he saw a burnt wooden stag. He stood there, the wooden stag in his hand. He brought it back with him. He walked, until the sun rose up.

* * *

Jon's army was rallied in front of Winterfell, standing on the opposite end was Ramsay's army. He ordered Aemma to lead the cavalry, making sure that Davos had his full attention to the archers. Tormund, on the other hand, had his men behind his back, including a Giant. He saw Aemma's reaction earlier when she first saw Wun Weg, which made him laugh to himself.

They were waiting patiently at Jon's command, whose eyes are locked on to Ramsay and Rickon. A smirk plastered on Ramsay's face when he brought up the knife and cut loose the rope on Rickon's hands. He seems to be saying something to the kid, and much unease to Jon's men and himself, when Rickon started running. Instinct kicked in on Jon and he rushed to his stallion, not wasting a time.

"Be ready." Aemma heard Davos say to her, though their eyes stayed on Jon.

Jon shifted his body forward, making his stallion go full speed just to reach Rickon. The boy is visibly scared when an arrow went right past his ears, making him stumble. Rickon looked back to see Ramsay loading another arrow to shoot him, prompting him to get back up and started running again. It is a race that they cannot win, Aemma thought. She made her way in front of the Stark cavalry, ready to lunge into action when she heard Davos gasp "no".

Aemma was heartbroken. Seeing Jon stare at his brother, whom he hadn't seen since he last left Winterfell, with an arrow through his heart. But what was worse is that it seems Rickon was an arm's length from his brother.

Ramsay knew he got Jon, his men can tell by the way his smirk is painted on his lips. And by the Gods he was right, Jon went charging towards Ramsay's army. Reasoning went out of Jon's head by that time, luckily Aemma was fast enough to command his men to follow her. Tormund was about to follow when he was stopped by Davos. "Why are you letting her die?" Tormund asked, but Davos knew Aemma better. While they watched, Aemma didn't realize how far they were from Jon when she saw arrows rained down above him. The scene made her grip the reins of her stallion hard. She leaned in forward, setting up a distance between her and Jon's men.

Davos, from afar, is hesitant to let the archers loose. The two parties have already crashed with each other, arrows still raining from above. He knew that Ramsay is willingly letting his men die just to weaken theirs.

Aemma was unmounted right after she got besides Jon. They are both fighting side by side, not giving Aemma the chance to at least scold the young Stark on his actions, though she knew they'd be better off fighting with their full attention to the real threat.  _ Help us win this,  _ Aemma prayed in her head. Men fell down much faster than they could swing their swords. In every turn of her head, bodies would just drop down, one after the other.

Slash after slash, Aemma gave her all to protect the Northmen and Jon. Even without saying a word, Aemma was encouraging them not to die without going all in. She was helping one of Jon's men stand up when Aemma noticed that Davos and Tormund were charging towards the battle. This gave her hope, or at least a fake one. With the Giant, she knows that she'd nothing to worry about.

Aemma was about to return fighting alongside Jon when someone slashed the back of her knees. Though this slowed her down, she still managed to put Dawn right through the fool's neck.  _ Showing that you've been stabbed is the last thing you want your enemies to know. _ With that mentality, Aemma still managed to lift and soak Dawn with blood before dropping the other sword from her hand.

With her leg bleeding, Aemma suddenly knelt down on her other knee. The Boltons know where exactly to hit a person to make them vulnerable, even when they're not tired.

Pleased with the view before him, Ramsay delivered his final plan. He made his remaining men round up the opposing side, enclosing them once and for all. Like pigs ready to be slaughtered. Then, Ramsay let Umber do whatever he wants with Jon and his men.

One by one, the Stark men were dying as Ramsay's men walked forward. Davos was just in time to help Aemma stand up, his arm around her waist while she clung to his shoulders.

"I never knew a slit behind my knee would be the cause of my death." Aemma said, almost like a whisper. Davos chuckled, surprised to hear Aemma sell herself short. His lips hadn't moved yet when Aemma quickly shoved his against the others, blood splattered in his face which made him close his eyes. And when he opened them back up, he saw Aemma barely standing, being supported by one of the Stark men.

The place they were in were closing in, but Davos felt he was pushed by Aemma farther. She took a blow for him. A blow for the man she knew wouldn't last in a war, and yet stood with them to fight. He rushed to her side once again, fear and panic playing in his head. Davos wiped the blood trickling down the side of her mouth, though he was relieved that the man missed her heart. Still, the stab is enough to lead her to her death if they won't manage to break free from the phalanx.

Aemma tried to speak up, to remind Davos that he had to protect Jon and not her, but words just won't come out of her mouth. Panic was settling in her mind as her vision began to get blurry. She felt that Davos was shaking her body, she knew that he was telling her to stay awake, yet her voice still wouldn't come. A tear escaped her eye, she remembered Sandor. Aemma wanted to gather all of her strength to muster up a response, but something tells her to just drift away for a while.

And with that, Aemma drew what she thought would be her last breath, when a horn boomed into the air.  _ At last _ , she thought,  _ I can now rest _ .

* * *


	9. I'ʟʟ ʙᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ

* * *

Soft chatters and the neighing of the horse is what made Sandor awake from his short-lived sleep. He was clutching the cloak that Beric had given him when he decided to join them in their journey. At first, he thought that Beric was only using Aemma's name just to get him to come along with them, but then he gave him her cloak. Though he was hesitant, Sandor knew that Aemma is the only one to do this type of thing.

From a distance, Sandor can see Beric talking to a man whom he first thought as a Lannister. When he came close, Sandor noticed that he had pale blond hair and seemingly dark blue eyes, almost to a point that it's purple. The young boy can be easily scared, that he noticed too, as Sandor stood beside Beric the young boy faltered in his words. He was examining the Hound from head to toe, then his eyes lingered at the cloak Sandor was wearing for a long time.

Beric clasped his hands on the boy's shoulder, "Ned, be sure to tell her everything when she wakes up." The boy, Ned, nodded and took one last look at Sandor before leaving them.

"Who is that?" Sandor said as soon as Ned was out of earshot. He was never the one to ask questions, and if he did, he'd usually find himself feeling defeated for being curious.

The red-haired man smiled at him, "Ned Dayne, Aemma's nephew. Ned's on his way back to Winterfell, apparently the Starks have reclaimed what was theirs in the first place. Some of Lord Dayne's men will soon be arriving there."

Just as Sandor was about to walk away, Beric grabbed his arm, "Clegane. She's searching for you everywhere." It made him laugh. He doesn't want to have his hopes up. They've been separated for too long. Surely, she's found someone to call her own.

"If she wanted to look for me, why not do it on her own?" Sandor retorted. He clung on to Aemma's words, she said that she'd find her way to him.  _ And where is she now? _ He thought.

As if Beric was reading Sandor's mind, he sighed softly before speaking up.

"The boy told me that after the battle for Winterfell, she has been sleeping and only woken up twice since then. During the battle, Aemma was protecting Ser Davos until a man stabbed her. Right under her heart."

"What a load of horseshit that is, making excu-"

Beric straightened up his posture, "We'll stop for Winterfell, if you're really that unsure." He then walked away from the Hound calmly, though his tone and the emotion that Beric just showed made him feel a bit of unease.

"She's more than just an in-law, Clegane. Beric just wants you to not waste what the two of you are feeling with each other."

He glanced to see Thoros watching Beric disappear with a couple of men. Sandor scoffed, hoping to hide his pain about what he had just heard. "I don't give a fuck about that, Thoros."

"Sure you don't. Come, we'll prepare now. We'll leave before the first light."    
  


* * *

Davos stared at the men who stood before him intensely, not trusting them even more when they said they wanted to see Aemma and her state.

"We'll be gone after this man sees her."

Said the man who has a topknot for his hair, pointing to a man who's face is half-scarred. Davos had heard tales of him, that he can be sure of. Sandor Clegane, or as they call him the Hound. He was the only one whom Aemma talks about everytime she gets heavily drunk. After all, she's not usually the one who lets anyone know what she is thinking about, or feeling. Davos sometimes thinks that the Gods made Aemma just like her brother, only that she's more loose when she's around with the people she trusts the most.

Sighing, Davos scratched his head before finally deciding his answer. "Make it quick. I don't want to let Jon know that I've let some unknown men enter her chambers." He led them to where her chambers are, but to Davos' surprise, only two of them followed him. He didn't question it, rather he was happy that he was only smuggling two men inside the Castle.

"Is she getting any better?" Sandor asked quietly, not sure if he wanted Davos to hear it. And Davos nodded, to his relief. "Aemma gets ill from time to time, but the Maester said it's only because her wounds are healing," the Onion Knight took a quick glance at them, "Take your hood off."

The last three words made Sandor stop walking and raise his eyebrow. "Wounds?"

"Aye, wounds."

Ever since the Brotherhood arrived at Winterfell, Sandor didn't speak a word to anyone. If Beric or Thoros would ask him, he would just answer in grunts or a shrug. He was clearly lost in thought, his mind wandering anywhere but at the same time nowhere. So, asking Davos questions was a surprise for Beric.

Sandor was about to ask another question when Davos stopped in front of a chamber door. "I'll be waiting for the two of you here." he then opened the door for the men waiting, making some space for Sandor and Beric to enter to. And when they entered, Davos gave Aemma one last look before turning away, but was stopped when he heard Sandor's voice.

"I want to see it." Sandor rasped, his eyes locked on to the body that's sleeping still. Her chest slowly rising and falling. Her face was relaxed, though she appears to be in great sorrow as she slept. Upon inspecting Aemma closely, Sandor could see a faded bruise under her eye. Little cuts around her face. He also noticed that one of her legs is raised, a couple of sheets underneath.

When Sandor felt a tap on his shoulder, he saw Davos standing beside him, his eyes somewhat filled with sadness. Sandor then made some space for Davos to lift up her tunic, as he requested. And when Davos did what he had asked, that was the moment that he felt his world fall apart a little.

It was not that one wound Beric had told him that broke his heart, it was those that he didn't mention. Sandor himself doesn't understand the reason why Aemma would go fight for the other's battle instead of protecting herself.

Beric and Davos were observing Sandor quietly, they couldn't quite tell what was going through his mind. The Onion Knight motioned for him to come closer when Aemma started to stir, slowly waking up.

"Davos?" she said, almost like a whisper. Even in her state, Aemma knew that there were others in the room that was inside with her. Barely opening her eyes, she propped herself with her one arm, wincing in the process as her whole body hurt caused by the coldness of Winterfell.

"Don't force yourself yet," Davos scolded Aemma as he made her lay down again, "you've got visitors, though they won't be here for long. It's-" He was about to say their names when Sandor gripped Davos' arm, shaking his head.

Aemma chuckled, stinging her sides once again. "I've noticed, but you know it's only one man that I wanted to see." She answered, closing her eyes again. A low chuckle came from Davos, "Even in your dying state you sure are still quite the romantic."

She smiled, "I've told you my story. I'm sure you'd agree that I deserve to die in the arms of the man I love."

"Quite a boring death." Davos reached out to grab the cup of water sitting on the table beside her. He had tried to offer it but Aemma waved her hand, "How long has it been? I need to go out, the maester's been feeding me with nothing but willow bark and dreamwine."

She heard Davos laugh, making her sigh as she continued to speak, "It's true. He even gave me milk of the poppy the first time I woke up, the bloody thing took me when I was a babe. Should've taken me to the time when I was with Sandor."

"Stop fighting with the maester and you can relive those memories yourself. Maybe even fantasize that dream that you keep on talking about."

Beric was smiling all throughout their conversation, though it is mostly Sandor's reactions to it that made him smile. "A woman can dream, besides I think I served my purpose to an extent," Aemma's smile though, faded after when she spoke those words. "Forgive me, unnamed Sers, as I am taking longer to heal fully. I've not yet gotten the pleasure to hear your concerns."

"We won't be here for long, Lady Aemma. Have a good rest." shock coursed through her body when she heard Beric's voice. Aemma forced open her eyes to see the man himself, but all Aemma can see was a blurry vision of Davos, Beric, and a tall man kneeling beside her bed.

She noticed that the figure moved closer to her, his hand caressing her face. "Wait for me, Aemma."   
  


* * *

When they first saw Aemma, she was visibly pale due to her body slowly healing from her wounds. But now, Sandor noticed that she turned pale even more, like a snow, when she realized that it was him talking to her.

Aemma didn't know what emotions should she acknowledge first. Thousands of things that she wanted to say and ask to Sandor, and none came out of her agape mouth. Even when in a grave state, Aemma still tried to sit up straight until she felt her wound stung her, causing her to fall from her side.

Sandor was quick enough to place his hand on her head, avoiding contact with the edge of the table near Aemma's bed. For a moment, Sandor thought of how ridiculous their position was, him on his knees towering over Aemma from her left. Though it soon faded when he saw her in pain. Thanks to Davos' quick thinking, he shouted for the handmaiden that's been going in and out of Aemma's chamber for sometime.

Soon, a maester was called upon after the three had made sure that Aemma was only sleeping when she suddenly stopped gritting her teeth and cursing out of pain. Luckily, the maester and the other two handmaiden got busy tending to Aemma that Beric and Sandor walked away with Davos unnoticed.

The rest of the Brotherhood were waiting for them to straddle up to their horses when Davos turned to Sandor. "Aemma talks a lot about you. She'd want you to stay here, if she hadn't passed out.."

Davos wanted to break out a grin when he saw Sandor huff and roll his eyes.  _ She really knew this tall of a guy _ , he thought.

"He'd have plenty of time when we get back, Ser Davos." Beric instead gave an answer, avoiding to prolong their unintended stop at Winterfell.

Davos nodded, "I'd give you food and ale to accompany you if I could. Sadly, we've got a lot of men coming up here in the North."

Thoros came to Beric's side and whispered something, which made him nod. Davos understood this, so he sent them off with a wave. He watched as Sandor really never spoke a word after leaving Aemma's chamber, or even if he did speak, it was about her. About Aemma.

He walked back to where Aemma is, checking the life of his savior, as he always does. And when Davos arrived at her chamber, he saw Aemma staring blankly at the ceiling.

"Was it really him that I saw, Davos?" she asked. Aemma turned her eyes towards Davos when silence dominated the room for a long time. This made Davos nod to her answer.

"Did Sandor stay here?" another question hounded Davos, this time shaking his head.

Aemma sighed, the fact that the man she loves was gone again to who knows where. This made her upset. She blames herself that she wasn't able to compose her mind to mutter a word or two to make Sandor stay. Aemma hated herself.   
  


* * *

"Sister, you don't have to do this. Ned's already there, and the King in the North will get mad at me if he-" Allyria was once again cut off by her sister.

"I have to. It's all I can do, after all sleep is all I've done these past few months." Aemma stated, adjusting her scabbard and baldric. She then stopped in her tracks, making Allyria raise an eyebrow. Aemma wasn't used to wearing the North's way of clothing. It was mostly thick leather, perfectly accustomed for winter. Though the colours that they chose were her House's, but darker in terms.

_ It represents your House and your eyes _ , Aemma remembered Sansa saying that after she gave Aemma her clothing.

Allyria didn't argue further, she then walked, following Aemma's steps as they closed towards the Great Hall. Allyria noticed that Aemma gripped the doors when she stopped, she could see her sister's face. Her gaze was empty. Allyria was confused, Aemma had no reason to cry, and if she did, it must be something grave.

And then she heard it. Their niece's voice fighting with another man's voice. A voice that sounded eerily familiar for Allyria, and a well-known voice for Aemma. Of course, they would know what Aemma had done in the past. The two men were soon joined by Jon followed by Davos, it made Aemma smile, hearing them defend her and that the thing that she had done wasn't enough to banish them and their army from Winterfell.

"Come, see me on my way out." she heard Aemma say, holding her hand in the process. Allyria knew better than to comfort Aemma with sweet words. She wasn't the type to ask questions and be content with a lie. Yet, Aemma herself still covers one lie that she had made.

"Countless wounds," Aemma started, "and months of sleeping is all it takes for you to travel North. What did I do to deserve you as my sister, Allyria?"

"Losing a month and a half is all that I could bear, remember that." She gave Aemma's hand a squeeze, "No one's denying you of our home, sister. What had happened, already happened. And it's not your fault."

Aemma smiled, "I know."

"Then, come home with us. You don't have to do this."

"Soon," their walking had halted, "I'll come home soon."

Holding her breath, Allyria tightened her grip from Aemma's hand. It made the older Dayne look at her quizzically. "Is there something bothering you, sister?" her sister asked, stopping both of their tracks. Allyria shook her head, face down whilst smiling at her feet. "I've just thought of my betrothed. I haven't seen him in a while, let alone..."

"Allyria!" said Aemma, laughing as she knew what Allyria was about to say next. "Although, I have thought about that, too."

Allyria made a shocked face, "You've thought about taking Beric? How dare you, sister." This made both laugh, as they both knew that taking a man to bed will be the last thing that would cross Aemma's mind. Their laughter soon died as Jon and Davos approached them, both with confusion in their faces. The two sisters bowed their heads before Aemma spoke with them.

"I've been meaning to leave, since I have made Ned bring a fraction of our army." Aemma blurted, not knowing how to put her words correctly after what she had just heard. Aemma did not want to let her emotions get the best of her, though she knew Littlefinger's statement earlier can make them turn on her.

Jon shook his head, smiling. He had wanted to bring Aemma to Dragonstone with them, to convince the Dragon Queen to fight by their side. When she asked why, Jon's answer was enough to convince her that his father and the ones who freed her were right all along. The two men watched as Allyria whispered something into Aemma's ear, making the oldest of the two nod. Davos was happy hearing Aemma agree at their proposal, up until she struck another deal.

"Take me to Eastwatch with you, I want to see an old wildling friend."   
  


* * *

Missandei cannot help but sneak glances upon the woman whom Tyrion seemingly knows well. She had violet eyes, just like Daenerys. Though the rest of her face looks like a Westerman, it's her eyes that she cannot stop thinking about. She smiles most of the time when she is talking to the other men, yet at a first look, everyone can tell that she bears a sad expression. One that Missandei thinks, she hides with a smile for every word. Davos noticed Missandei's actions, so he slowed down his walking to talk once again to her.

"You've seen her through her defenses too, don't you?" Missandei nodded, "You're quite an observant, Missandei. I'm sure you'd trust her, too."

"Why is that?" It was her turn now to ask Davos. He gave her a hearty laugh before answering, "Aemma won't lie to you when you ask her. Why don't you give it a go and ask her what's bothering you."

Missandei looked at Davos, he sure knows how to see through someone too. Hesitant at first, Missandei walked fast enough to be at Aemma's back, then, she decided to make her presence known by suddenly asking Aemma.

"I heard you were a great battle commander, even if you were the same gender as I am." Aemma turned her head to face Missandei, a smile sprawled across her lips. Aemma returned her smile, which made Missandei confused even more. The pair had let silence take over the vacant space between them before Missandei broke it again.

"May I ask you something, Ser Aemma?" the Lady of Starfall nodded, prompting Missandei to continue on, "I have noticed that you do not put on a mask to hide your emotions. You genuinely smile at others, yet your eyes tell the opposite. May I ask why?" Surely, Aemma was shocked to hear this kind of question.  _ I could get used to this type of question _ , she thought. "Masking my emotions won't do me a thing. After all, it's for someone to figure out what's going on with me."   
  


* * *


	10. Aɴ ᴏᴅᴅ ᴏɴᴇ

* * *

The moment that they had stepped foot on Dragonstone, Aemma wanted to go back to Winterfell. Sure, it wasn't the closest place that she could feel like she's still at Starfall, yet as long as Allyria, Ned, and their men are there, Aemma can still consider Winterfell her home. If not, temporary home.

Of course, the colour of her eyes had drawn attention to some. Aemma had expected it. Some people had assumed she had Targaryen blood before, earning her some scowls and hateful comments along the way. Though this time, Aemma had earned their confusion. Even the Dragon Queen herself.

"Are you of Valyrian descent?" Daenerys had asked Aemma once she laid eyes onto the Lady Knight. Aemma kindly shook her head, the other then continued to ask which House she came from. "No, but of House Dayne, Your Grace." she answered, humbleness lingering in her voice. Tyrion and Missandei had their eyes wide for a swift moment as they caught their Queen smile.

"Ser Barristan spoke highly of you, Lady Aemma." This, too, made the Lady of Starfall smile. Joy and hope was sparked inside her, Davos can tell as Aemma quickly glanced around the room to see the fabled knight. Everyone instantly knew that the Lady Knight respected and admired the late Ser Barristan, even going so far to think that the two had a father-and-daughter relationship. "May I ask, Your Grace, where is Ser Barristan? Did he not accompany your journey going here?"

Tyrion snuck a glance at Daenerys, whose smile faded when realization struck her. "I'm sorry, Lady Aemma.." Daenerys trailed off, then composed herself, "He is long gone. He died protecting Grey Worm from the attack of the Harpy's Sons."

Truth be told, Daenerys sometimes hates when men and women stare at her, with or without reason. Yet, seeing Aemma's heart slowly crush upon the news that she had told her, Aemma's stare did not bother Daenerys at all. She sensed that what Aemma is feeling is genuine. Daenerys even wanted to comfort the lady in front of her, even for a short time, who landed on her knees, sobbing as Davos tried to give her strength, tugging at her arms trying to lift her up. Aemma wanted to scream. Barristan was the closest thing that she had got as her father, and yet she never knew about his death, or if they had avenged his death by killing the bastards who took his life.

It has been a day or two since they had been ordered by the Queen to rest after their long journey. Aemma took her time to marvel at Dragonstone's surroundings, closing her eyes to hear the waters meet the stones. It was her favourite thing to hear, the calming effect of it on her makes her mind at peace. Aemma wanted to cherish the calmness that the sound brings her before they set off to East Watch, closing her eyes as she concentrated on the wind that's caressing her face. Soon after, Aemma heard a faint footstep drawing near her.

"We're setting off now, my Lady. Have you got everything ready?" Davos inquired Aemma, a smile painted on his lips. Whenever Aemma would show her appreciation on the little things that they encounter, or if she's not talking about Clegane, it was at those times that her sad and somber face fades away. It was at those times that everyone could see Aemma and not Arthur, just Aemma.

Aemma opened her eyes, her expression soon returned to the sad one that she always bore. "I have asked for the Dragon Queen for extra buckets, she didn't mind." a raised eyebrow was all Aemma got from Davos, which soon caused both to laugh. Their laugh resonated over the open area, letting it be carried with the wind.

"Davos," Aemma started as soon as she got a hold of her breath, "thank you. For all the things that you've done." Davos let his smile fade, confused as to why Aemma was thanking him. "I haven't done much, Aemma. Don't thank me just yet."

"You may not realize it, but you did a lot. I just wanted to take this time to let you know that I'm grateful for it. And..." Davos noticed Aemma suddenly blinks fast, "You are the only one who never made me feel like I'm a monster or something. You are the only one who treated me like a normal person." Aemma's hand went over to cover her mouth, preventing from any gasps to escape from her lips. She was indeed close to tears.

Davos understood why she would say this out of the blue. For Aemma, there was never a perfect time for spilling what you wanted to say. True, it is difficult to let everyone know what you are thinking or feeling, but it must be done if you want no time to be wasted. And indeed, Davos wasted no time to respond to Aemma. "You are a human being. You just made yourself think that you are not because of the things that you have done in your past. Ask for forgiveness not for those who don't need it, ask forgiveness from yourself. Reme-"

Davos didn't need to continue what he wanted to say, Aemma embraced the father that she wanted in front of her. "Don't let the man hear what you just had said, I have a feeling he won't like it." the Onion Knight said, recalling the times that Aemma would just dream of Sandor Clegane, on how he would be as a husband and a father. "I'll let him know, just not this soon."

The pair had embraced for a long time when Aemma suddenly pulled away from Davos, clutching her damaged knee in the process. She felt the skin at the back of her knee tear up, followed by a wet feeling dripping down from the wound. "I felt it open," was all Aemma could muster as Davos saw her get pale all of a sudden.

Struggling to stand up, Aemma gripped onto Davos' tunic, her grip doing no justice on how badly her vision is going blurred. Aemma was cursing at herself, for getting stabbed and being barely able to move. 

* * *

Tormund stared at the scarred man inside the cell, who appears to be staring right back at him. The man called him a ginger cunt earlier, clearly annoyed at how long he has been staring at the man. Tormund wanted to stop staring, he wanted to, but he can't stop thinking about the man that Aemma always talks about. The man who is laying down before him looks just like that of the Dog, and if Tormund's memory serves him right, he talks like how Aemma used to tell in her stories.

Giantsbane was about to ask the scarred man when Eddison Tollett called for him. "They've just arrived. Apparently the lady that they were with got one of her wounds opened, almost lost a lot of blood." Tormund nodded, "How's my murdering little girl now?" he heard what can be compared to as a growl from the scarred man,  _ I knew it,  _ Tormund thought. "She's all well now. Come along now, Jon asks for you."

Sandor watched the ginger wildling walk away, still staring at him with his smug grin. He wanted to punch him for calling Aemma  _ his _ little girl, though Sandor got more irritated that he hasn't got a thing to prove that she was his instead of that red-headed wildling.  _ When she sees me, that fucker will know, _ Sandor thought as he closed his eyes to sleep, pleased with the resolution that he had in mind.

Hours passed by until Beric was awoken by sounds of chattering men. And a woman. He sat up straight, though he returned back at his slouching position. There's no use in presenting himself as someone who's from a minor House.

The small room that held the cell where the Brotherhood is being held got filled with men loathing each other, with Jon starting the ruckus and Sandor ending it. All have fallen silent as a cane slammed twice on the ground, Aemma decided to let them know that she's been listening to them for at least an eternity, bickering at each other.

"Allyria's looking for you, Beric. She's asking when will you marry her." Aemma voiced out, not moving at her place. Beric chuckled, he knew Aemma was talking truthfully, yet he somehow can not believe her.  _ The joys of being brought back to life too many times,  _ he said to himself. "Aye, I will marry her. If I still remember her."

It was only this moment when Aemma stepped into the view of the imprisoned men, her eyes instantly locking onto Sandor. Gripping one of the bars, she glanced briefly at Jon before returning her gaze to Sandor, "Let them out. I want to speak to someone."

* * *

Immediately after Jon unlocked the cell, Sandor pushed his way out towards where Aemma is standing, scowling slightly at Tormund in the process. They both engaged in a long and loving embrace, which earned them a whistle or two,making Sandor turn his back on their audience.

"You've never been this open and intimate with me, let alone in front of the others." Aemma quipped, slowly melting in Sandor's arms. Her Sandor. "Aye," he replied, "but I need to let the ginger cunt know that you're no one's lady. No one but mine."

Surprise doesn't suffice what Aemma is feeling right now, she didn't expect Sandor to be this kind of man. Though she isn't the one to judge, since they've been apart for so long. Aemma then laughed at the fact that Sandor was jealous of the Giantsbane. "Tormund told me how you growled at him when he called me "little girl", I didn't know if I'd be shocked or happy."

Davos coughed, trying to get both Sandor and Aemma's attention, but to no avail. They were too engrossed in their own world, savouring their moment. Sandor lifted Aemma's face up, "Let it be both." the lady stared into the Hound's eyes for a while, confused at the words coming from Sandor.

"That's enough." Jon finally intervened, "We'll leave before the first light on the morrow. Don't force yourself too much, Ser Aemma. All of you, get some rest." The pair had broken off their embrace, Sandor rolling his eyes. Aemma smiled at his action before she rested her head on his chest. "Let's get going now, looks like Jon is serious about his plan." One by one, they waited for the men to leave the room, with Tormund being the last one to go before them.

Still, Sandor hasn't been able to relax whenever Tormund is around. So when the Giantsbane passed by them, Sandor put his arm around Aemma's waist. "What is his plan?" Aemma looked at him quizically. "The bastard of Lord Eddard Stark." An elbow to his stomach was all that Sandor got from her. "You'll say no such thing. He's still a Stark by blood." Sandor huffed, though he thought that Aemma's right.

Davos and the others were already in the common hall of the Eastwatch, some of them exchanging stories about their adventures and such when the couple joined them, still engrossed in their own little world. A world of their own that's been plagued by love, both not speaking yet their eyes barely leaving each other. Then of course, Davos knew that there is still one thing that the two wanted to do without them visibly around.

Jon noticed Davos that he's been quietly observing the Hound and Aemma talk about what had happened to their lives, he knew what the two wanted for the time being. Standing up, Jon approached Aemma, instructing them where to rest if they need it now. "I'm sure you're tired Ser Aemma, I'd take it that the Hound is also tired."

Sandor frowned at Jon's statement, not really sure why. He felt Aemma made her fingers slither onto his, holding it in the process. "Go on girl, they don't want you waddling about here now. Get some rest."

"What about you? You seem uncomfortable earlier in the cell." Aemma asked Sandor, innocence played in her face. As much as Sandor wanted to be close to Aemma, he himself still can't believe the effect that she had on him. He still can't accept the fact that he let himself be that open earlier in front of strangers.

"I'll sleep here, or I might take Dondarrion's be-" Aemma cut him off, taking everyone by surprise when they heard her. "Share the bed with me." She said plainly, not knowing what might happen if he agrees to it, or what might the others think. "No."

It was clear for Sandor that Aemma wasn't getting the idea. "Care to explain why not?" her Dornish accent showing. "I," Sandor sighed, "I just don't want to."

This time, Tormund can't help but pull out a side remark, a one that is true. "You're fine on putting your hands all over but not on sharing her bed?" Sandor, having none of it, stood up and walked towards Tormund. He wanted to punch the wildling in the face, to show him that he's tired of his unruly attitude.

"Sandor. Tormund." Aemma tugged his arm away from Tormund, who is smiling like a mad man, "will you two stop it? Tormund, leave Sandor alone will you?" A sigh was the only thing that she could muster after the two had passively fought. Aemma was left with no choice but to drag Sandor with her towards their temporary chambers.

"What in the seven hells are you doing?" Sandor whined as he made no effort to stop Aemma from dragging him, "Do you know what you-?" Aemma sighed again. "It's just a bed. And yes, I know what I am doing." Silence conquered both of them as they walked the corridors of Eastwatch.

Creaks of the wooden floor beneath them were the only ones that were making noise, aside from the distant cheers and howls of the men that they had left behind in the common hall. Aemma halted in front of the chamber door.

"Aemma," he hesitated, "you don't have to do this. You're the one who needs to rest." He lifted Aemma up from the ground and laid her down at the bed. Sandor saw that Aemma made no attempt on moving, she was clearly frozen by his actions, though her eyes projects more than that. It was those expressions that Sandor knew too well when a woman begs for her man to please her. An expression that's full of lust.

Sandor wanted to give in to his desire. Their eyes were locked, not even leaving when a knock came at their door. A plea to let his body feel once more roared through Sandor's mind, a plea that he might not be able to resist. It was only when Aemma sat up that Sandor noticed they've been staring at each other for a long time, and he only realized that he's been standing beside the chamber door.

"Don't. If you're not certain." Aemma's head shot up to see Sandor clenching his jaw. She's not that daft to not notice the tension that was quietly building between them, Aemma knew it. She was the first one to ignite it, anyway. Aemma wanted to let Sandor know that she wants it, that she wants him to take him.

Two careful steps was all that Aemma took before Sandor walked towards her, their lips crashed and unlike before, they're now hungrily tasting each other whilst taking off each other's garments. Sandor found it amusing as he was ridding off Aemma's clothing, she was almost wearing the same thing that he is wearing. A small smile escaped his lips, the burnt side twitching. This thought of his can hold on after they're done.

Sandor laid Aemma down on the cold bed, her naked body shivering once touched by his calloused hand. He first caressed her breast, then took a nipple in his teeth. His tongue played with it while his hand made its way down and slid a finger inside Aemma, making her flinch with pain and pleasure. Her reaction made Sandor stop for a while, how could he not see the fact that she's still a maiden.

Before they had entered the room, Sandor noticed something was off about Aemma. He could feel her uneasiness, more when he laid her down. Her body was shaking, though he thought of it as the cold, it never occurred to him that she was nervous. Yet, despite all of that, Aemma still carried herself out of her worry.

"Don't stop now," he heard her whisper, "you've already started." He sighed, supporting himself with both of his hands. "You'll regret this. You don't want an old dog to take you." Sandor kissed her lips after, then on her neck. His fingers entwined with Aemma's, planting a kiss on her palm, while Aemma's other hand traced Sandor's face with her finger.

It was kind of a wishful thinking on Sandor's part to expect Aemma to insist, to hear her begging for him to take her. Yet Aemma stayed silent, another one of his prayers went unanswered. He was about to lay down next to her when Sandor heard her voice whispering,  _ "Please."  _

* * *

The men that were left in the Common Hall were the first ones to hear both Sandor and Aemma as if they were asked to sing for their lives. A smiling Davos raised his eyebrows, soon getting nudged by drunk Tormund handing out Jon's wineskin. Davos shook his head, opting for the stew that Tormund had in his hand.

The rest of the Brotherhood had already made themselves at home, headed for the chamber as soon as they heard Jon gave his permission. All except for Beric. The Lightning Lord had stayed with the rest of them, silently listening and sharing his own stories.

"I knew they'd come around, eventually." Beric said, taking a swig from his own wineskin, "I never understood why Clegane pretended to be blind. It seemed that I could see better than him."

Tormund decided to chime in after a moment of drinking, "He looks sad, and horrible. Yet he is mostly sad." The squeaks of the wooden floor beneath them and the howling of the wind were the only ones that can be heard. This had made Davos somehow content. The vast understanding of one another through silence, it was this that they had needed earlier when all of them had argued for a while.   
  


* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *quickly updates this with my Greasy Ass Hands™*


	11. Oꜰ Nʏᴍᴇʀɪᴀ ᴀɴᴅ Bʟᴏᴏᴅʀᴏʏᴀʟ

* * *

The North was never a Southron's great friend. The North were always cruel, always judging those whoever steps a foot in its land. Sandor has learned it the hard way, walking along the halls of Eastwatch whilst clutching the cloak that Beric had lent him. Sandor did not bother to wake Aemma up, though he did not want Aemma to see him leave for the morrow. She never told him, but Sandor knew Aemma won't let him go.

Before he decided to take a walk after he woke up, he found Aemma's arms wrapped around his waist, her grip getting stronger the more he tried to stand up. It took him a lot of coaxing before he felt Aemma's arms let loose and saw her turn her back towards him.

When Sandor arrived at the Common Hall, he saw Beric sitting alone, his face seemed to be lost in thought. "The Lord of Light bothering you, Dondarrion?" Beric turned to see Sandor, taking a seat an arm's length from him.

"Coming back to life has its consequences." the Lightning Lord said, shifting his body to face Sandor. "Have you got a night's rest, Clegane? We have a long journey ahead of us." Sandor grunted something in response. They fell silent for a while before Sandor brought the topic of his betrothed.

"If I am to be true, I can hardly remember anything about me. I never even remember her face nor her name nor how her voice sounds like," Beric sighed deeply, something that caught Sandor's attention, "I only have the knowledge that I am to marry, long before we were called outlaws by the late King.." Both men looked at each other but not long enough as Beric tore his gaze to look at the fire.

"You are lucky, Clegane. I never understood why you are still the way we found you along the Riverlands." Beric heard the scarred man groan, his voice raspy. "Maybe you'll never understand why."

Heavy footsteps soon followed, making Sandor notice that the person was running. The two had waited for the person to appear before their eyes, and when the person did, it was the letter that had caught Sandor's attention fully.

"A message for Lady Aemma," Beric looked at the man as he struggled to get the words out, gripping tightly at the letter he held. He asked to inspect the letter, before asking where it came from. "Some of the men came back from Winterfell earlier, m'lord, they were sent to get some supplies to bring here. Then a man approached me, said I should give this to a lady named Aemma, but I don't recognize the seal that is used."

"I'm here," Aemma combed her hair with her fingers, "I heard enough. Did anyone tell you who wrote or sent it?" The man bowed to her, before being stopped, "No, m'lady. I'll ask the men who arrived earlier right away."

When the man saw Aemma giving him permission to leave, he quickly scurried away from them, seemingly threatened by Sandor's presence. Gently, she let her fingers feel the parchment and the seal slowly, hummed to herself when she confirmed to whom it came from.

And when she finally opened the letter, Aemma saw the name "Ano Rivers" written on it, though the contents of the letter is what bothered her. Words that do not mean anything. "Who is Ano Rivers? And is that common tongue?" the brooding man beside her asked, a hint of jealousy lingering.

"Ser Vorian, our master-at-arms in Starfall, and yes it is common tongue, arranging letters is our way to communicate subtly," she told Sandor, almost whispering as she began to get lost in her own thoughts while reading the letter.

She stayed quiet for a while. Brows furrowed, holding out her breath for a while until Aemma decided to speak, "The man convinced Lady Allyria and others to return. Not us. We'll protect the lady. Take good care."

"Who would want to-," Aemma squealed as she got picked up by her lover, "Sandor, put me down!" She struggled, but failed horribly. In the end, she made herself comfortable in his arms in defeat, sighing heavily every now and then.

The walk back from their quarters was oddly silent, not once did Aemma hear Sandor grunt or curse when she was trying to make herself free from him. Something was bothering him, yet Aemma doesn't know what. _A hard man with a soft heart,_ she told herself, not noticing that they're already inside their chambers.

* * *

The warmth of Aemma's hand sent a shiver down Sandor's spine, tracing his scars gently with her fingers. Laying down, hands travelling in each other's bodies. Sleep was once again crawling unto Aemma, she had never once thought that Sandor had that much stamina in him. He had pushed her to her limits, thrice, and Aemma never felt Sandor slow his pace, all the while his eyes kept locked in hers. Bringing her own memories from earlier made Aemma want to recreate it one more time.

A cold breeze brought her senses back, she did not realize that the man whose arms are wrapped around her buried his face on her chest. "What are you thinking about?" she asked him. Shaking his head, Sandor soon planted a kiss between her breasts. "You don't have to go with them. You can just stay here with me, I'm sure Jon won't let anything harm the Brotherhood." Aemma's words seemingly hit Sandor as he looked up and gave her an unreadable expression.

"Stay here with you? I thought you're going to leave me again for a letter that you received." he said without a second thought. As weirded out as he was, Sandor still can't believe what had just happened between them. When Aemma said that it'd be her first time that someone would bed her, he wanted to run. It was one of her jests, he told himself a while ago. He kept on telling it to himself until he awoke from his slumber, with Aemma laying still on his chest. Even when she's sleeping she bore that of some kind of sadness.

Sandor propped himself up as he took her hand and kissed her wrist. "We'd be quick. I'm certain of that." Aemma felt his fingers run across the remnants of the shackles that were supposed to bound her eternally on what she had recognized as her  _ new  _ home. "Do not be long, Sandor. I'd wait for your arrival at the gates." she sat up facing him as her hands pulled him in for an embrace. It was odd enough for Sandor to see Aemma so vulnerable around him, though it would be a lie if it did not put his stomach into knots.

In a short span of time, Aemma had managed to make herself comfortable in Sandor's arms, nuzzling in his neck, letting her body rest against his. She was unaware of what the effect of her actions are causing on Sandor, unaware that he had already pressed her body against him even more. He wanted her again. He remembered her failed attempts to hold her voice as he thrust deeper and deeper inside her. The way that she scratched his back and bit his shoulder. He was getting hard again.

But Sandor remembered the reason why they came here. Instantly snapping to his senses, he quietly whispered in Aemma's ear. "Girl, stop doing that." when she asked why, Sandor just bluntly answered, "You'll make walking difficult for me." He tried to stifle his laughter when he saw Aemma's eye widened, but mere seconds later he couldn't hold back as her face reddened. Before Aemma could say another word, Davos sprung open the chamber door and barged in. A sense of hopelessness crawled over Aemma. She wanted Sandor to stay, yet she doesn't want to risk the chance of Jon's plan.

A stupid plan, to begin with. All she could do was to pray for their safety, for their lives. Aemma took Sandor's hand and led him to the door. "Safe travels, to you and the rest of all," out of the corners of her eye she saw Tormund with his same smug grin. "Go join them." She had closed her eyes as her ears heard their footsteps grow distant quickly. Now that she is alone, Aemma let herself fall on the bed that she and Sandor had slept in, letting his scent be washed away by her tears.

* * *

Through ale and stew, Davos and Aemma decided to share stories by the fire in the common hall of the Eastwatch. The Onion Knight recalled how he would trade and smuggle goods in this grey and almost forgotten castle. He was glad that he met a highborn lady whom he had the chance to share his journeys with. He was almost excited when Aemma had asked him what his story was. 

When he was through, he then decided to ask Aemma the question he's been wanting to raise ever since. "You're a Dornish. What reason had made you swear to Stannis?" and to his surprise, Aemma started to talk. Beginning her story from her dreams, dreams that consist of pitch darkness and fire. Sometimes it would be snowing, and the cold would brush against her skin. It all felt too real for her. "I've half a mind to bash my head, just so I can forget it all." she told Davos after finishing her story. From then on, they both went silent. Aemma focused her eyes on everywhere, at the same time nowhere.

"Sleep," Davos cooed the woman staring blankly in the fire, "You've been awake for a week now." the old smuggler did not get a reply, rather a sigh from her lips escaped as she brought up her knees to her chest and hugged it. Davos knew that talking Aemma out of her worrying isn't going to do anything, she loved the Hound dearly. And when they saw Gendry running back to the gates alone, it gave Aemma more reason not to let herself rest.

_ The gods are really a cruel one,  _ she thought again and again, her hands clasped tightly as her jaw clenched. If Davos wasn't aware of their relationship, he would've thought that she was gritting out of cold. Too cold, for that matter, that he noticed that her teeth might shatter if she continued on doing that. Aemma watched the logs burn slowly when a harsh gust of wind rumbled the roof of the old castle. They rushed outside to see what it was, fearing for the worst. 

"The Dragon Queen!" shouted one of the wildlings as Aemma ran towards Daenerys and her dragon. Her heart wanted to burst out of her chest when she saw that grouchy and scarred man scale down the dragon, whilst carrying what seems to be one of the Others. Their eyes met within seconds, with Aemma halting in her steps.

_ She did wait,  _ Sandor told himself. From afar he could see dark circles in her eyes, her lips and her skin as white as the snow. The Dragon Queen ordered them to rest as they waited for the return of Jon Snow, which Aemma had heard that he fell beneath a thin ice whilst trying to fight off the wights. Aemma felt her lack of sleep taking a toll on her body, combined with the letter that Vorian had sent her from Winterfell.

When the party who went beyond the wall had already settled, Davos took the chance to tell the Hound about the lady's stubbornness. Sandor knew of it, as when he tried to make Aemma retire to their chamber, she insisted on staying awake as she cannot bear to let Sandor be out of her sight again. She was aware, too, that she wasn't feeling herself ever since they had left. It felt for her as if she was descending into madness, her head hurting even more the longer she stayed awake.

Aemma had stopped arguing and had let Sandor carry her shivering body. He doesn't know what he was feeling when he felt her body relax, asleep as soon as her head hit his chest. Aemma did not stir even when Sandor kicked the door of their chamber, even when he laid her down and started to take off her boots and his own, giving her at least comfort. Still, Aemma did not stir, giving Sandor some time to observe her for the hundredth time. He smiled and felt a twitch on his scarred side, he too soon joined her in her sleep, arms wrapped around her with a beautiful thought circling around his head.   
  


* * *

_ A jolt ran through her body as she opened her eyes, slowly taking her surroundings. She felt the sand swallow her feet, yet when she looked down it was all but a few patches of dry grass that she was standing in. There was nothing around her but rocky hills and a tower. She knew she had been there before. It frustrated her as she knew the place where she currently is, the name lingering in her tongue too long for her to spit it out. _

_ "Tower of Joy, is where you are right now. At least, in here," a familiar voice spoke, "I have missed you, sister." _

_ "Arthur?" was all Aemma had managed to say, words caught up in her throat. If this was her atonement, she would take it over anything. If this would make up for what she did to her own brother, she'll let it be. _

_ Aemma ran towards her long-deceased brother with open arms, oh how she wanted to give up her own memories in order to give back his own life. They embraced for a long time, she felt Arthur ruffle her hair like he used to do when she cannot sleep. _

_ "In the battlefield," she felt his voice rumble his chest, "it is only you, your bannermen, and the enemy. I reckon you'd know that by now." Aemma pulled away from him, confusion visibly cast upon her face. _

_ "It is not your fault, my sweet sister. It is Ned that you followed, both with your heart and your mind." Arthur finally said, taking her hand with his. "And I assure you, you won't go down being known as the kinslayer. You would be much more than that." _

_ "And what is it?" Finally, the confidence to talk to her own brother had come for her. Instead of answering, Arthur smiled. She was startled at how accurate the others would describe her. They had told her that she looked just exactly like him, yet she did not believe them. The sadness that their faces had bore, the smile that only spoke when needed, the eyes full of thoughts. _

_ "I'll leave you with that thought, sister. Until we see each other again. I wish you good fortune in the great war to come." _

_ "Arthur, no!" she cried as her body stiffened, watching her brother kiss her hand all the while he disappeared with the violent blows of the wind. A single speck of snow touched her skin, allowing the tears in her eyes to fall and the name in her mouth go out as she awoke. _

"Arthur!"   
  


* * *

This was the first time that Sandor heard Aemma say her brother's name, her scream filled with worry, horror, and sadness. He saw her knuckle turn white as she continued to hold his hand. "Sandor," she said in between her ragged breath, "I saw him, Sandor. I.." Aemma trailed off before bursting into tears again. She felt Sandor's arms pull her body towards him, making her do the same.

"You're safe with me, girl. No one's going to hurt you." he cooed, her body trembling as she sobbed. Aemma noticed that they were in a ship, though she's still in distress to ask where they are headed. With her screaming soon attracted the attention of Davos, busting the door open wide as he swung his sword in his right hand. "She's had a bad dream." Sandor told him. He then told Sandor that Daenerys had called upon them when they heard a horrified scream, so she sent Davos to look for it.

Aemma raised her head up, seemingly much calmer when she woke up. "Send the girl my apologies, old man. I meant no intrusion of your meeting." she told Davos, but the Onion Knight told her that the Dragon Queen wanted to speak with her.  _ Seven hells,  _ she thought while nodding in affirmation. Davos motioned for Sandor to come with him as a couple of women brought in her clothing.  _ A gift from the Dragon Queen herself,  _ they told her.

It was a robe and a long tunic, each piece shows the colors of her house. The tunic was made of silk, bearing a shade of white, whilst the robe that she was given has a deep shade of purple with the edges having a light shade of it. Without a word, she first removed her breeches, kicking her worn-out boots out of her feet. Aemma only remembered now why she hated going North, as their clothing is ridiculous, layer over layer, but blushed when she thought of how easy she had removed all of it when she made love to Sandor.

For what seems an eternity, Aemma finally slipped on the robe. She could never be happy as the silk breathed freely against her skin, though the slit of it ran down just above her abdomen. The robe did help a little to cover her lower body, though it still showed off her chest. While Aemma is securing Dawn's baldric, a knock comes on the door, showing a woman carrying a pair of boots to match her clothes. Thanking the woman, she sat on the bed, preparing for what the Dragon Queen wanted to speak about.

Two of Daenerys' men escorted Aemma towards the Captain's cabin, where the supposed meetings were being held. Inside was the Dragon Queen, Davos, Jorah, and Sandor. Daenerys was discussing something to Davos and Jorah when she caught sight of the Lady Regent. "Your Grace," Aemma smiled meekly, "you've called for me?" Daenerys nodded, "I've heard about what is currently happening at Dorne," she started as Aemma walked to where they stood, "House Martell has fallen. Your kin from High Heritage has fallen, too."

"I've received the word about it through my lord nephew." right then and there, Aemma sensed where this conversation was going. She exhaled sharply, carefully choosing her words, "If House Martell is truly no more, I gave him and my sister my wisdom on who to vouch for with ruling Dorne. A strong willed house," a hand travelled around her waist and an innocent look on her. "And which house would it be?" Daenerys' tone gave nothing, yet Aemma still stood firmly and confidently. "House Yronwood," there, she met Daenerys' eyes.

Luckily, Jorah Mormont had raised another issue to veer away the heat that was boiling between the two. Aemma knew this is her time to get away from the Targaryen. It was only this time she bowed before speaking, "I request leave, your Grace," the Dragon Queen nodded. Aemma then turned around and left with Sandor and Davos. No one dared to speak as they walked, yet they saw her smiling.  _ Our knees do not bend easily,  _ Aemma thought to herself.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOHHHH WE'RE HALFWAY THERE
> 
> OOHHHH ᴵ ˢᵗᶦˡˡ ʰᵃᵛᵉⁿ'ᵗ ᵖᵒˡᶦˢʰᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵃˢᵗ ᵗʰʳᵉᵉ ᶜʰᵃᵖᵗᵉʳˢ LIVING ON A PRAYER.


	12. Oᴜʀ Oᴡɴ Tɪᴍᴇ

* * *

The ship that they had boarded was approaching Dragonstone. Four days worth of travelling, the captain had finally told them that they'd arrived before or after the sun had set. This has delighted Aemma for a reason that all of them did nothing but drink until they vomited what they ate on that day.

Four days, and Aemma's words still lingered in Daenerys' mind. She cannot blame the Lady Knight for her words, she spoke with the truth. She was glad that someone can still look her in the eye and tell her the things that a lord or lady couldn't say.

Dorne. Daenerys had heard of the tales of Dorne, how the Princess outsmarted her ancestor. How they were the last ones to join what all would call the Seven Kingdoms. They did not shed blood, they used their minds. Their tactics. And at last, Daenerys' anger had diminished.

_She'll be of use to me_ , the Dragon Queen thought, observing Aemma appear from below the deck with a large and scarred man following behind her. A smile formed on her lips as the two passed by her, the man giving her no reaction.

Jon Snow immediately got the word about what happened between Aemma and Daenerys. He ran off to where they had told him where Aemma would be. He soon found her sitting on the quarterdeck, drinking with the Hound and his other advisor.

"What was that?" Jon asked her, and when she did not answer he took away her wineskin. His breath caught up in his throat when the Hound suddenly stood up. "I only told her what is true, Jon. I did not cause a scene." Aemma said back.

Jon sighed in defeat. He knew Aemma is not lying, it wasn't in her nature to do so. Feeling defeated, he then sat down with the three before offering his thoughts. "Speak with caution the next time. I cannot bear the thought of losing an advisor because of her sharp tongue."

Aemma raised her eyebrow, confused. "Am I your advisor?" the three went silent, not sure if she's jesting or not. And when she did not speak a word, Sandor howled with laughter, with the two men joining him. "Buggering idiots." she said with a smile as they laughed more intensely.

"A knight, kinslayer, Lady Regent of Starfall, advisor to Jon Snow, and the Sword of the Morning. What title is next to come?" Aemma asked no one. Davos grinned, "One of the Kingsguard?" she shook her head. "I am nothing but a knighted pawn," Aemma gripped the railings of the boat to stand up, "How long will our journey go after we've arrived at Dragonstone?" her face basked in the sun as she spoke, her eyes glimmering.

"It will be a short one, one or two days, if the winds are in our favor." she heard Davos say. Aemma was glad that Jon's Queen has a taste in picking silks, as she enjoyed every moment of walking in clothing that doesn't feel heavy. A thought suddenly nudged her head, "The spear that I asked of Gendry, is it finished?" Davos nodded.

Aemma let her finger run against the railing as she walked away, with Sandor following her like a shadow. Davos tried to hide his smile, watching the feared Hound and the knight with their hands intertwined.

* * *

They went as quick as they came when they had arrived at Dragonstone. Aemma did not bother to go with the men who guided Daenerys' remaining advisors towards the ship, she was comfortable in Sandor's arms anyway. A week worth of travelling, they are now nearing King's Landing. The Hound and the knight decided to spend the entire journey in their cabin, so they did. Telling stories, exchanging glances here and there. But not that moment. 

"It was in Winterfell," Aemma whispered, "a long hallway in front of me, with each door leading to different places. The castle on Storm's End, a castle high as the skies, Sunspear. And at the last door I saw Starfall. Our home. Every time I dream about that, I always find myself running towards home. Until last night," the lady coughed to clear her throat, "I reached the end of the hallway. I saw my sister and my nephew, Sandor. They were standing inside the room, mere seconds later you emerged, then Davos. And Jon, Gendry, Tormund.. All of you."

Sandor eyed Aemma, her face still as time, then heaved a worried sigh. "No one will dare to hurt me, woman." he reassured her but she shook her head, "Sandor. In my dreams, all of you have blue eyes. And.." she trailed off once more. Something was stopping her from speaking, from telling him how Dawn lit up the moment she touched it.

A soft knock broke their conversation. Aemma opened the cabin door to see who knocked, it was Tyrion. "Ser Aemma," the Imp curtsied. His eyes wandered around the room when Sandor caught him glancing, "I was told that you'd be here." The Knight smiled warmly at him, "I am indeed. How may I be of service to you, Lord Tyrion?" The latter motioned for Aemma to come walk with him. _A bantering peeking its head in the horizon,_ she thought.

"I had to see it for myself," the jesting from Tyrion has started. Aemma laughed remembering their promise, "As soon as we arrive back at Winterfell, we will arrange a feast for you and your would-be husband." This time, Tyrion joined Aemma guffawing. The truth was the knight doesn't know how to respond to the Imp's jesting, for whenever she thinks of the Hound, red shade overcomes her cheeks.

"Marriage is out of the question, my Lord." Aemma finally replied, "We've only been in each other's arms for a short time." Tyrion frowned upon her statement, giving her a look of uncertainty. "And long enough since you've laid your eyes on Clegane," the Imp said. _I would never wish to curse our would-be family,_ a thought she badly wanted to say to the man she's talking.

They both stopped in front of the galley. "Cursed or not, we would all die and be put in our graves," Tyrion told Aemma whilst taking a seat in front of each other, "what would you give up to be cleansed from the 'curse'?" two goblets full of wine were placed by the serving boy. "Memories. How about you, my Lord?"

Tyrion took a huge swig, "Love." Aemma imitated him, their goblets soon refilled much to their liking. As they sat in silence, a couple of men went inside and took a seat near the door. Then, one by one, people came and went as they ate their sup. For once, Aemma did not think of the concerns and problems of those around her. _I've had to have a tankard of wine with me then,_ a pleased smile on her lips.

The two were engrossed in their conversation that they hadn't noticed that it was almost the hour of the owl. The door banged loudly when someone had kicked it open, Tyrion saw the Hound scanning the galley, only to find his woman passed out on the bench. "You let her drink this much?" he growled at the Imp struggling to balance himself. If he wasn't worried right now, Sandor would've laughed at the sight of the two piss drunk highborn. "Her idea. Not mine," he heard Tyrion say in between hiccups, his short legs hurriedly walking away.

The Hound knew there was nothing that he could do but carry Aemma back to their cabin. The swift motion of Sandor made Aemma weigh like a bag of wheat. He heard her mumble in her sleep as her head hit his back multiple times. Her mumbling continued on until it turned into complaining as Aemma wanted to sleep on the floor.

"I'll scream if you accidentally step on my head."

In the end, they both slept on the floor, much to Aemma's enjoyment and Sandor's disbelief. "I'll get back to you for this, woman." he whispered, purring, into her ears as they both drifted into sleep.

* * *

Aemma stirred awake as a calloused hand travelled from her breasts down to her thighs. She placed her hand on Sandor as he kissed her neck from behind, nibbling at her skin, leaving marks afterwards. She felt him press his hard cock against her back. "I despise you for making me this way, woman." He said, his fingers making its way inside her, "you're wet. How long have you been waiting for this?"

A moan was enough answer for the Hound. Aemma clung onto his shoulders as he laid her down on the featherbed, her legs quivering as he soon worked on her, thrusting his finger in and out, his free hand fondled her breast. She pulled him in for a kiss, then threw her head back as her hands travelled from his chest and back to his shoulders.

Sandor Clegane found himself mesmerized by the way Aemma is under his control. He loved every bit of it, from her eyes rolling back to her mouth formed in a silent scream. "Look at me," he commanded, her purple eyes pure of lust and love. 

Yet their moment was ruined by a loud knock. _Again?_ Aemma thought as she gave her lover an apologetic look. "We'll have our own time," she heard Sandor say with a smile that made his cheek twitch. Another knock came at the door. "We may have arrived at the Harbor," Sandor mumbled and held out his hand for Aemma to grab on as they stood up, both walking towards the door.

"Why are you dressed in multiple layers, Jon? Do you know where we are going?" inquired Aemma, eyeing Lord Snow from head to toe. The former Lord Commander gave an embarrassed smile before turning to Sandor Clegane, "Check our guest to see if it's still alive, we'll land in a few moments. Ser Aemma, you'll come with us." a grunt was the only noise that Sandor could make, clearly annoyed by his task.

"Should've brought that ginger cunt wildling with us to carry that," he released a short sigh, "thing." Aemma laughed at his remark, seeing how their journey changed his opinion towards Tormund. "Stop being so grouchy, you big bear," he felt her snuck a kiss on his cheek, "now go. I'll meet you on the land."

* * *

"You think it can break out of that box?" Sandor glanced at Aemma before shaking his head. The Other that they captured was placed in a wagon, though at first, someone wanted the Hound to carry it all the way to the Dragonpit. The Lannister soldier that suggested it thought it would be funny to mock him for his name, only soon realizing that it almost cost him his life when Aemma swung Dawn at him, sheathed.

"Mock him again and I'll assure you won't have the time to blink. Away with you," The poor soldier scurried away as fast as he can, leaving his arrogance at the shore. The knight huffed in annoyance, walking in front of Sandor as she fixed her baldric in place. He caught a sneaky grin coming from the Onion Knight himself.

Nobody tried to bother the Hound and the Dayne after that, leaving them alone in their own world. They shared small smiles, sometimes looking at each other longingly, before being joined in by a tall blonde woman, almost tall as Sandor. "I thought you were dead," the tall woman said to the Hound before greeting Aemma, "my Lady. I'm Brienne of Tarth."

She bowed slightly, "Aemma Dayne." Brienne looked shocked as she heard her name, though she still kept her composure, impressing Aemma. She then let the two talk alone, exchanging apologies from what had happened between them whilst her mind wandered. A cold truth slamming right in her face as the Hound came into her view once more, her reflections on their relationship now clear. _Will he want me by his side?_ she questioned herself. She questioned the Kinslayer that everyone knew. The other Dayne that everyone talks about. The Sword of the Morning.

Fits of melancholy. Or so the maester says. Those fits of melancholy overtook her for a few years when she saw her brother being laid down on his grave, it got worse when their men told her and Allyria they couldn't find the body of their older sister. All of the people's attention was focused on Allyria, as she couldn't eat, sleep, nor take a walk around Starfall. Aemma Dayne didn't mind, she took a stab from the living, _why would she mind being haunted by the dead?_

Sandor Clegane took notice of Aemma's unusual behaviour all throughout the meeting. She's here, but at the same time she isn't. Her eyes were screaming a lot of things, yet her face remained that of sadness. Nothing seems to be bothering her. The Dragon Queen's arrival, the Other, Jon Snow's undying loyalty and stupidity. Nothing. When they had departed for Winterfell and the destriers were given to them, only a simple thanks was heard from her.

"Why are you so glum?" Sandor asked, finally breaking the silence between them. A fortnight into their journey for Winterfell and she still hasn't spoken. He had enough of the silence, of her not bothering him or speaking to him. It bothered Sandor, and he hated it.

She pulled the reins of her destrier, drawing a near distance between Sandor and her. "I have a lot on my mind." The chatters of some were overlapping with one another, though the voices were not enough to drown the voices inside Aemma's mind. "About what?" He was now facing her, eager to know everything. She just took his hand and placed it in her cheeks, "I'll tell you when we arrive at Winterfell."

* * *

Arya Stark remembered the first time she saw King Robert Baratheon's party arrive at Winterfell. She remembered how in awe she was seeing the soldiers pour in one by one. The girl felt like a little kid again, until she saw two familiar faces come. A face that she hated and a face that left her without hesitation. She slunk in the crowd after she saw Gendry, hiding from those two faces that she saw.

Aemma Dayne swiftly got down from her destrier, their men surrounded her. A stout old man approached her and Sandor, "You've been gone for so long, m'lady. Lord Edric and Lady Allyria have been sent off to home." The Hound said something in her ear before leaving them, she then handed the young man her gloves and cloak as she motioned for him to follow her. "I have received the letter you sent, apologies if I hadn't answered back. You've done well, Ser Vorian. You don't have to be here when..." she trailed off. Vorian laughed heartily, making Aemma feel guilty more.

"I've brought our men here, why would I go home now?" the master-at-arms of House Dayne said grinning. "Come now, I want to see if our men are well prepared for the battle." they walked towards the courtyard, all the while sharing stories from the battles that they had missed. They only walked for a short time before seeing a lean man standing before their men, talking with their own spearmen.

They saw their master-at-arms and Lady Regent coming towards them, and they rose to greet them. This also made the mysterious man turn and look. "I take that he's not one of ours," she said while eyeing the man. Vorian leaned in to whisper, "He may have been with your company that had arrived from King's Landing." Seeing the confusion in her face, Vorian could not help but laugh, with Aemma laughing at her own confusion.

In the mere distance, Jaime Lannister was finished talking with Brienne of Tarth when he caught the sight of Aemma. He was keenly observing her speaking with her men, a carefree feeling that she radiates. He remembered the one time that they had spoken with each other, never a judgement that came from her mouth. The whispers were true, she was just like her brother.

He swallowed his fear. He found himself going to where she is, asking for a spar. She smiled at him, nodding. Jaime didn't know why he became speechless all of a sudden, sure he wasn't the same arrogant man that he used to be, but something about her and her House makes it difficult for him to act normal.

His attention was drawn back when Aemma handed him tourney swords while asking him a question. "Would you want me to use my left hand as well?" her tone with a hint of worry. Jaime shook his head with a smile, he would have never thought that this woman in front of him is a feared knight in all Westeros.

Jaime prepared himself before lunging his sword towards Aemma, meeting his weapon with hers. She then guided Jaime's sword in a circular motion, sending it flying away from his hand. He did not need to raise his hand as Aemma waited for him to pick up his sword. Once again, Jaime landed his first attack, a swing below from his right going upwards. Aemma took a step backwards whilst Jaime kept going swing after swing.

Most of the people stopped what they were doing to watch a couple of Southrons, including Brienne of Tarth and Podrick Payne. Some are even imitating their moves, the others betting on who would be the last one standing. Jaime saw Aemma's smile not fading the longer they spar, though he was sure it was not the type to mock at him.

His sword fell for the fifth time as Aemma tapped the middle of the sword hardly, slightly bending his hand on the blow. "Old Selmy and Arthur have trained you finely, Ser Jaime. I hope I haven't worn you out from our sparring. You were too kind to hit me," she said, picking up the tourney sword from the ground. Jaime cannot help himself but chuckle. _You are the one holding back,_ he said to himself.

"I've had the pleasure. Bronn told me you are unforgiving in the training grounds." Jaime replied, wanting to linger through the castle walls with the lady. "That I am, though not on this day, Ser Jaime." Aemma answered, taking each step towards the forge with grace.

* * *


	13. Yᴏᴜ Nᴇᴠᴇʀ Kɴᴏᴡ

* * *

"You're alive." Aemma whipped her head around, a small figure appeared from the shadows. Arya Stark. She placed her spear and shield down as she faced the Stark girl. "How did it go when you left us for Stannis?" the Stark girl hissed at her. Aemma dared not to let the Stark girl know the shock she's feeling.

She gave Arya a faint smile. The Stark girl noticed that there was a moment where she looked genuinely happy, even if Aemma gave her honest and warmest smile. Her sadness never leaves her face, yet anyone could appear to look one. "Does it matter now if I tell you?" Arya shook her head. 

Words caught up in Aemma's throat just as she placed her hands on Arya's shoulder. "Forgive me, if I left," her voice a bit croaky. The Stark girl patted her hand before Aemma removed her hold, "I best be leaving now. I wish you good luck, Aemma."

The Stark girl made her way to the door before hearing the lady say, "You too, Arya." A smirk painted on her face as she clasped her hand behind her, making her way to where Gendry is. Aemma followed the Stark girl out the door when Davos Seaworth came into view.

Davos raised his concern about the wildlings and the Brotherhood. He saw tears welling in her eyes upon hearing they were well and have now arrived at Winterfell. House Umber has fallen, and whoever was with the men who guarded Eastwatch, was all that was remaining in the upper North.

Having addressed the news, the two went on to discuss the Northmen's concern when Davos noticed the spear and the shield behind Aemma. "I'll be fighting, of course," he drew a sharp breath, making Aemma cross her arms. He quickly shook his head and laughed, "The Hound won't find your decision wise, Ser Aemma."

"I'm well aware of it, Ser Davos," she grinned, "stop with the formalities. You know I hate it." Aemma propped herself on the table, "What would you have me do, then? Sit this one out? The safety of the realm?" she heard him sigh heavily. "It's not about that," Davos groaned.

She found it ridiculous that she is arguing with Davos about Sandor. "Then what about?" she asked, curious. "Let him know that you love him, Aemma. Tell him, before it's too late." _Oh, that._ Aemma thought to herself. A familiar thought once again crept in on her mind.

Aemma thought of ways to avoid the topic. She doesn't want to face everything that's in front of her, she was and is still afraid of knowing Sandor doesn't feel the same way for her. "I called him "love" once, I think it's enough," she told Davos in a confident voice.

The Onion knight stared at her for a long time, until he broke out of laughter. "Sit down properly," he gripped Aemma's shoulders, "I'm going to tell you the details on how I courted my wife." The lady knight tried to protest, her face becoming more reddened.

* * *

One of the servants led Aemma to their chamber door. When she asked who will the person be that would share her room, "The Hound that they call, my Lady. Lady Sansa asked me to bring you to him," was the girl's answer. She never spoke again until they stopped at the chamber. "Tell Lady Sansa, I said thanks." The girl nodded and bowed, leaving after.

"Heard you were in the training yard with the Kingslayer earlier." Sandor's voice was rough as he mentioned one of Jaime Lannister's names. He was sure that if he had seen them together earlier, he would've made no attempt at hiding his protectiveness over Aemma. He would even stand at her side as near as possible, just so Jaime Lannister knows not to try any tricks on to her.

There was something in his voice that prompted Aemma to look right at his eyes, her brow rising as words came out of her mouth. "Indeed, we are. The man asked a favour, saying he wanted to have a spar with me." She assured, taking a wooden comb that got placed on their garb. Standing in front of a mirror, she gracefully ran the comb through her now long dark hair, struggling to untangle the ends.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Sandor sitting up and watching her, his face gave no expression. "Who won?" he asked. Aemma let the corner of her lips curl at his question, still struggling with her hair. He chuckled at the sight of her, grunting and cursing at herself for her own hair. He caught her shoot a glare before returning to her own business.

Sandor pushed himself up, walking slowly behind Aemma. His arms snaked around her waist as he approached, "Some of them were looking for you. They mean to ask you to help prepare the formation." He felt her shoulders rise as she laughed. "Would they take advice from some person like me?"

"Aye, they will." he assured her, planting a kiss on her temple. Aemma hoped that Sandor was right, that they would consider hearing her advice. Battle tactics wasn't her greatest feat, though she would double her effort in leading her troops. But now, thinking about the war that is to come anytime soon, a sense of dread crept at the back of her mind. Doubt took over her again.

A frown and pursed lips replaced her warm smile. He saw her purple eyes grew even more dark. Sandor released his grip from her waist and turned her around, "You don't have to be up here. Bringing your banners here is enough for everyone to know you took a risk." He can tell something was troubling her, yet he had heard not a word about it.

"I've led them here. It will cause a stain in our House if I leave them fighting while I hide away." the words left her lips as she leaned on to his chest, her body melting in his arms. _She's tired,_ he mused, bending his knees to carry Aemma to the featherbed. "Sleep, woman. I'll wake you if they called upon your presence."

Sandor soon joined her to lay down for a while, facing each other. He felt Aemma placed a hand on his chest, twirling her finger senselessly. His eyelids grew heavier, letting himself be lulled to sleep when he heard her say his name. "What is it, woman?" he rasped, his breath became ragged.

"If, somehow, we've won this war, would you go with me back to Starfall?" _Let him be a part of your world,_ Aemma ran through what Davos had told to her earlier. She was hoping the Onion knight is right, that what she asked Sandor would let him know about everything.

For him, he did not understand why Aemma would ask him to go with her. "Well, I thought I should show you around there.." she murmured when he asked her. Lie. Her answer got him instantly annoyed. Sandor was about to talk back when he heard her speak again. "It's," he heard her sigh while she sat up, "forget about it. Forget that I asked you about it."

Her statement confused him. She covered her face with her hands, then continued on to brush her hair. Aemma felt his hand caress her back. "Go on. What is it?" she noticed Sandor's voice had gone soft, yet it still held a growl to it.

Gathering her remaining courage, she pushed the words out of her. "It would mean a lot to me, if you went back with us," Aemma took a deep breath, "because, Sandor..." she trailed off, her head hanging low. Sandor rushed to her side, touching her face stricken with tears.

"Spit it out, woman." His words sounding harsh, annoyance and confusing weighing each other out in his mind. Aemma looked at him, piercing him with her purple eyes. "I've fallen for you. I love you, Sandor Clegane." She heard no sound coming from Sandor as she finally told him what was bothering her. Aemma felt her confession was a bad idea when she still hasn't heard him talk.

His expression is no help at all, his face bore an angry emotion. Embarrassed, Aemma hurriedly stood up when a hand grabbed her arm. "I've been meaning to tell you something, woman." She stopped. The lady can perfectly hear her heart beating loudly, _did I do something wrong?_ a question quickly raised in her head.

"Be my wife, if you'll have me." Aemma could tell Sandor was a bit uncomfortable when he voiced his own thoughts, though he still held his gaze on her. It is as if a sword was pulled out on Sandor's chest when he saw the woman in front of him smile. Unknown emotions that are bursting in his heart.

Sandor returned her smile as she left him in their chambers with, "I'll look for someone who can marry us." He heard her say before shutting the door close.

* * *

Aemma changed into the padded armor that she asked for Davos, matching the ones that Sandor is wearing. "Like the couple that we are," she teased him before they parted. Heavy footsteps echoed through the halls as she walked to the Great Hall, where the War Council decided to hold the meeting.

She still could not believe that they said their vows in front of a weirwood tree. Jon Snow couldn't believe the favour she asked of him at first, yet he was their only witness. The one time Jon saw the Hound as Sandor Clegane. The latter did not mind, he told Jon, as long as he'll keep his mouth shut. Aemma found herself smiling at that memory.

No one seemed to notice her arrival, she overheard the Stark siblings arguing. Aemma approached Ser Vorian, smiling sadly, before looking at the table. _North Gate,_ she mused. A pleased reaction emerged from her, a clear path now visible in her mind.

Aemma cleared her throat to catch their attention, and when she got it, she asked them to tell her what would happen. Jaime Lannister told her everything, from the trebuchet to her men being placed with the Unsullied's phalanx. She wanted to laugh, everything was wrong. They are doing it wrong, yet she made no effort to speak up against it.

It was now Sansa Stark's turn to tell her about the civilians. She listened intently as Sansa told her they would be placed in the crypts. Aemma raised her hand to speak, "Ser Vorian, take Abel and some men with you down the crypt. Have them in full armour, I'll replace you in the battlefield to command."

"Ser Aemma," Sansa interrupted her thoughts, "are you certain about your proposal? Ser Vorian said-" she was cut off by Aemma, "Yes Lady Sansa, I am." all of the people were in there turned to look at her, as if they are telling her she is making a bad decision.

"Then we're done here." Daenerys concluded, earning the nods of the other Lords and Ladies. Aemma's stare lingered on to the table, Tyrion and Bran were looking at her with intent. "You should let your husband know," the crippled boy told her, a sudden realization struck her. Time is almost nearing an end before the Others arrive. Aemma's gaze now at Bran, "He'll argue with me, I know that. Best to leave it unsaid," she stated.

She saw Tyrion drag a chair near the crippled boy, Bran's smile seemingly a teasing one, "You never know." Her shoulders shrugged, raising her hands in defeat. Taking her leave, the last thing she heard was the Imp asking for Bran his stories. It took her bumping in with Arya before she found the Hound and the Lightning Lord at the battlements.

Aemma heard what had happened to the Eastwatch. She prayed hard to whoever listens for the safety of her friends. Needless to say, Aemma sobbed as she wrapped her arms around Beric Dondarrion, returning her embrace. Beric gave his congratulations to Aemma, which she learned that Sandor already told him. In a brief moment, the Hound smiled at the sight of them, before recalling what he had heard.

Sandor was glaring at her, unsure if it was the wine or if the word reached to him already. Aemma knew he was angry, he did not bother to conceal his emotions. But instead of being the first one to talk, she turned a blind eye and sat beside him. She heard him groan and mumble, which made her exchange looks with Beric.

"I can give you ideas if you want to kill yourself," the Hound growled, his eyes not leaving the ramparts. Aemma chuckled at his words, taking his arm, "You put your trust in me when I left to fight for Stannis, why take it now?" Sandor didn't answer her, instead he relaxed his body as he held her hand. Her head rested on his shoulder, his warm body battling the harsh cold of Winterfell.

When Beric handed her the wineskin that they are sharing, Aemma snatched it from his hand, taking a huge swig. Sandor grabbed the wineskin away from her, as she almost emptied the contents of it. "Am I not allowed to be numb before I die?" Sandor shook his head, _you're not going to die,_ he said to himself.

Aemma closed her eyes before balancing herself as she stood up, "Come, let's get warm in the main halls." She knew that Sandor wasn't the one to join other people before war, yet she still hoped that he would come with her. "I'll follow you later," he promised as her footsteps soon faded.

* * *

Aemma wasn't expecting there would be people in the main hall. Sitting in front of the fire was Davos, Jaime, Tyrion, Brienne, Podrick, and Tormund. She was standing awkwardly at the door when Tormund turned to look at her. Joy was an overstatement when she saw Tormund with them.

The two engaged in a hug as soon as they saw each other, "You big ginger! I'm glad that you're here with us," Aemma sobbed. For some odd reason, she'd grown fond with the wildling as she grew close with Davos, and Jon.

"Aye. And here I am," the wildling smiled wildly, offering a chair to Aemma before returning to his own. All seven of them sat in silence, pondering their once simple life before they pledged to fight for the living and going North. None of them dared to comfort one another, they all knew sweet words won't change a thing.

Until Tyrion asked everyone for a song. Aemma was glad Tyrion didn't ask her, having no strength to sing at all, though it all changed when she heard Podrick started to sing.

_High in the halls of the kings who are gone,_

_Jenny would dance with her ghosts._

_The ones she had lost and the ones she had found_

_And the ones who had loved her the most._

Aemma's voice soon joined Podrick's. Everyone smiled at them before the two sang together, the combination of deep and soft voices rang through the halls of Winterfell.

_And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave_

_Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave_

They sang with their heart, sadness lingering in their lips. Everyone who was in the room was so immersed by the two that they did not pay attention to the Hound's arrival.

_... And the ones_

_who had loved her the most._

"Still singing that damned song?" Aemma whipped her head around to see her husband, leaning on the wall with his arms crossed. "Sandor. Glad you could join us." He placed a hand on his wife's shoulder, which Aemma mimicked by placing a hand on his.

Davos recalled what Jon told him days ago. The Onion knight embraced Aemma after he gave her armour, he was truly happy for her. Though looking at Sandor now, all Davos could do was to nod and raise a glass to celebrate their marriage.

The people that knew the Hound were staring at both of their exchanges, clearly engrossed with one another. Tyrion opened his mouth to ask about them when the sound of a horn blowing occupied their hearing. They all fell silent and went on to the forge.

"You don't have to go," Sandor pleaded. He held Aemma's arm whilst they looked at each other. "I have to, Sandor. Understand that we need every man and woman who will fight," every word was a stab for Sandor, yet he did not dare to push her not to fight. He pulled her body as he reached for a kiss, not caring about the tears that fell down on his cheeks.

Aemma broke their kiss before wiping his tears, "I love you, don't forget that." With her words in his mind, Sandor ran off to the forge, picking up the axe that Gendry made for him. Aemma just watched him walk without looking back. Something told her that he was right, that she should just stay down the crypt, yet what good are their praises if she won't fight?

With her decision being final, Aemma sprinted off to the battlements. She trusted Davos with handling and returning Dawn, should she come back as a wight. The Onion knight only nodded to her instructions, giving her the spear before rushing towards the North Gate.

* * *


	14. Tʜᴇ Dʀᴇᴀᴅᴇᴅ Nɪɢʜᴛ

* * *

A gust of snow clouded the light that the moon gave. Whether the North has always been this unreasonably cold or not, some people are shivering uncontrollably that night. Aemma was glad that she and her banners were placed with the Unsullied. Her banners occupied the second up to the fourth row of their phalanx, with the Unsullied on the first and last row.

Out of the corner of her eye, a limping figure was making its way on the frontline of infantries. Aemma noticed that Sandor's gaze was set on to the darkness in front of them, not tearing his gaze away. She knew she somehow hurt him by not going down the crypt, by being one of the people who'd protect the gates from the Others.

Some Unsullied were readying the trebuchets when a hooded person emerged from the darkness in front, slowly approaching the Dothraki screamers. It removed the cloth covering its face, Aemma's blood boiled as she recognized the person.

Melisandre. The Red Priestess.

In a blind rage, Aemma plunged the spear to the ground and threw down her shield to confront the reason of Shireen's death. She only took a couple of steps before a large hand yanked her arm. "This is not the time to do that, woman," Sandor said to Aemma, who is visibly seething with anger. She tried to pull her arm away from his grip but to no avail. "Sandor, let me go," her tone dark and pure of hatred, though the Hound is not the one to back out.

Aemma tried to wriggle out of Sandor's grip, only to stop when she heard him growl. "Look at me!" she could sense his patience ran out, "if all of us make it out alive here in this shit city, I'll let you kill that fire priestess. But not right now, you don't need that distraction. You might get killed because of it."

Sudden burst of fire lighted each and every arakh that the Dothraki held. It startled Sandor, though his eyes remained on Aemma. His words appeared to calm her, feeling her body slowly relax. So does Sandor's grip on her, sliding down to hold her hand tightly before going back to their flank. Aemma did the same, picking up her shield in the process.

Everyone watched as the Dothraki screamers charged at the darkness, only for their fire to be put out so quickly. Not a single word nor breath were heard as the fire that the Red Priestess lit got extinguished. Death has come for them.

Commands can be heard from the left and right flank as they prepared to clash with the Others and wights. Greyworm shouted at the Unsullied, so did Aemma to her banners. "Level!" was all it took for them to raise their shields up and positioned their spears above it. The unusual cold breeze grew stronger, along with the nearing wights.

And before Sandor could blink, the wights collided with the Unsullied and Aemma's flank. Her name escaped his lips, watching men quickly fall, row by row. Those who survived the attack of the wights did not hesitate to stand up and put some down, just to be dragged again to the ground.

Aemma cursed in her head as she caught a glimpse of the trebuchets that were used once or twice. She knew that if she had spoken up, they would be firing at the damned undead, minimizing their casualties. The blame she had for herself circled around her head, all the while the undead rammed mindlessly at their shields.

It didn't take long before both the infantries and cavalries called back their men. The living knew they were losing men fast and the undead gaining more. It was their job now, Aemma thought. "Protect the retreat!" she shouted, "let them live and us die!" The cries of fearlessness was the only answer that Aemma wanted.

Sandor couldn't believe that his wife stood on her words. The last glimpse that he had of Aemma was that of her closing the path that they took back inside the walls of Winterfell. He was about to run to her earlier but Beric stopped him, "They'll fall back, Clegane." He pushed the Lightning Lord out of his way, yet Beric still had not moved. "When? After the buggering cunts kill my wife?" he spat, ready to punch the man in front of him when he noticed Aemma and her men retreat.

Before Aemma ran towards Beric and Sandor, she threw her spear to the growing army of the dead. "I have to go to Davos," they heard her say, "he has Dawn." Sandor tried to protest, to tell Aemma that she could fight beside him. He did not want to let her out of his sight anymore, though he felt something that told him to let her get _that_ sword.

The three separated with a nod as the living are now having a hard time dealing with the enemy. Aemma picked up whatever she could grab as she made her way up to the battlements. With a diminishing hope, she clung to it while searching for the Onion Knight. _Gods be good that he used the sword,_ she prayed.

A lit up log on one hand, Aemma danced with the dead, beating them mercilessly and getting bruises in return. Various people fell and rose, and this made Aemma even more angry, swinging the log faster and harder at the wights who came up to her. She screamed, an anguished one, finding ways to let her anger out as she found it wasn't enough to kill the undead.

"Aemma!" she heard a croaked voice ahead of her, seeing Davos with Dawn in his hand. He placed it on the ground and pushed the greatsword towards her. _Sheathed. Damn you old man,_ she wanted to say to Davos. Dawn created a grating sound as it neared Aemma, its pommel slightly scraped off the path it went through.

She bent to pick up Dawn when a shriek caused her head to look up. Davos is getting slowly trampled by the wights. Time slowed down for Aemma, yet she felt her feet jolt instantly, her hands went to the hilt of her greatsword, leaving the scabbard behind as she drew out Dawn. 

Aemma ignored the heat radiated from the milky steel that she carried, saving Davos was her priority. She couldn't let another person die from the Others. Thoughts raced one another inside her head, yet the desire to save them all prevailed. A swing of Dawn was all that it took before the Gods answered her prayers.

Dawn lit up. Huge flames surrounded its steel, incinerating the wights that have been sliced with it. A look of shock played on Davos' face, though confusion was painted on Aemma's. "The Red Priestess is speaking of the truth," the Onion Knight whispered, "Azor Ahai has returned."

The Knight's lips opened up to protest when Arya came into their view, twisting and turning her body to hit every wight who came close to her. The Stark girl saw the flaming steel in Aemma's hand, resulting in a frown from her. Aemma once again opened her mouth to say something until Arya got knocked down to the roof.

"Arya!" Aemma shouted, rushing towards the ramparts where Arya fell. Relief settled in her for a moment before fear soon kicked back in as the wights followed the Stark girl. "Davos," she said whilst handing him a lit up log, "fight for me." The Onion knight then watched her run after Arya.

* * *

Beric Dondarrion's plea to Sandor was drowned by the screams of men and the undead. Even if Sandor never told him, he knew Sandor's weakness, the very thing that can make him freeze. And it was in front of them, one of the things that can kill the wights. Everywhere they look, fire surrounds Sandor Clegane.

The Hound felt helpless. Men and women were dying in front of them, yet he couldn't do anything. His body stiff as a log, he couldn't move. Sandor thought what Aemma would think of him if she saw his state right now. A scared dog in the middle of the battlefield. 

He felt angry with himself. Even swearing at Beric when he tried to snap him out of his fear, though the Lightning Lord was successful when he pointed at something in the roof. Arya Stark was being chased by the undead.

No words were said, Sandor sprinted off inside the castle. The time that they had travelled around Westeros, he soon learned that he had grown fond of the Stark girl. Sandor was nothing but proud when he heard from Brienne that she's alive. _She learned,_ was one of his thoughts that time.

If anything, being with the Hound for some time, Beric has learned that the man can move as silently as he can, despite his size. It helped their quest to move around without being attacked, without the wights ever noticing they're there. As they walked slowly, the two picked up a faint sound from their left.

Soon enough, the door got broken down by the undead tackling Arya to the ground. Beric threw his flaming sword at a couple of undead, letting Arya free from their hold. The Stark girl ran to the two before being joined in by a loud footsteps.

"Sandor!" Aemma called on to her husband, who took a step back after seeing Dawn flaming. She tugged Sandor's arm, reeling him back to reality. "Let's go! Now!" she commanded, the four of them running away from the mob that's chasing them. Aemma ran in front of them, taking sharp turns to make the undead lose their balance and slam right into the wall.

They took turns in keeping Arya safe, though the Stark girl still fought alongside them. Sandor thought that they could return to the field safe, when he heard Aemma yell Beric's name. The Lightning Lord got stabbed. He saw his wife swung at the wights slamming their bodies at the man before putting his arm around her shoulders to help him walk.

Arya told Sandor to make a right, heading straight to a room ahead to barricade themselves. Sandor looked back to see if Aemma and Beric caught up with them, and when he did, he saw Beric push Aemma to safety. And for the first time, Sandor saw Aemma froze as she watched her friend get stabbed repeatedly in front of her.

A wail of anger echoed the walls, the sound of Dawn's flames merged with it as Aemma hacked every wight that had stabbed Beric. She dragged his body to where Sandor and Arya went in, a strange feeling ran through her veins, giving her enough strength to drag Beric.

The undead seemed to be not decreasing in size, piling up in the halls as Sandor slammed the door shut and barricaded the door with a bench. He could hear Aemma whisper Beric's name repeatedly, until resting her forehead on the dead man and sobbed silently.

Melisandre, The Red Priestess, made her presence known, speaking to Arya about the ones she is destined to kill, then telling her that Azor Ahai has come and she can stay here until the battle is through. They saw the Red Priestess look at Aemma and Dawn intently, her eyes filled with hope and faith. 

"I am not doing this for you," Aemma said as she stood up, "I'm doing this for the realm." Melisandre nodded in response, moving out of Aemma's way as she jumped out from the window. Sandor's body jerked to follow his wife when Arya pulled his hand, "I'll follow her. You stay here." He wasn't able to speak up as the Stark girl was quick, disappearing without a trace.

* * *

Aemma hasn't got a clue how far off she was from the Godswood, yet she ran straight ahead, slashing every wight that would come in her way. Everywhere she turned, she could see familiar faces being devoured alive by the undead. Her heart wanted to stop and help everyone of them, but her feet still carried on running.

Screams filled by every walking creature and men filled Aemma's ears, almost deafening her from Arya's shout of her name. She was about to take a left when Arya sharply pulled her to the right, "Follow me," the Stark girl commanded. Aemma was never the one to question one's knowledge of paths, even if they were younger than her, so she followed Arya with her whole heart.

With every Northmen, Wildlings, and Unsullied falling, Aemma's mind shifted to her own men. Were they still alive? How about Vorian? Is he well? Doubt on her as their commander poured uncontrollably on her head, making her slow momentarily, only for her to quickly pick up her pace as she tried to catch up on Arya.

They were almost side by side when Daenerys' undead dragon lunged between them, throwing them both off guard. The impact that the beast made was too powerful for Aemma, enough to make Dawn momentarily lose its fire. Aemma screamed at Arya, "Go! I'll catch up with you!" prompting Arya to bolt off, towards the Godswood and away from the beast.

The beast roared and breathed ice before turning its head directly at Aemma. She had never known fear up until this point, keeping her frozen in place. _Move!_ she told herself, yet her arms nor her legs weren't moving at all, even if she tried with all her might. The dragon then opened its mouth, ready to turn her to whatever it creates.

When Aemma felt herself being harshly dragged away from the beast. It was a northman who dragged her. "My Lady, are you alright?" he asked as they took cover from the wrath of the beast. Aemma could only do so much as to nod, with fear conquering her body. Her eyes travelled around the area that they are in, watching men fall quickly to the ground, only to emerge as the undead. Some were running away in fear, while some still gave their all as they fought. Even Jon.

 _Jon._ The beast's attention was onto Jon now. It was attacking him relentlessly, clawing and breathing ice wherever Jon would take cover. Seeing Jon run and hide away from the beast made Aemma push herself to stand up and charge at the lumbering dragon.

Her action caused the northmen who dragged her to take a step back, only to realize what she is intending to do. He picked up his shield as he started to swing his sword alongside Aemma, "I hope you can kill that thing," he told her. A smile appeared on her face, only for it to disappear when a man joined them.

The man was one of hers. He shouted for the others to protect Aemma, "for the Realm" they would shout back as they gathered around her. Then fear hit her again as they drew closer to the beast, "run away from me, now! I can handle this," she shouted at them whilst she climbed the beast's back.

Getting on its back was easy, staying on it was hard as the moment Aemma landed herself, the dragon shook its body violently. One of her men shouted at the others to distract it, making Jon look to what the man is referring to. There he saw Aemma, her one hand raised as it held Dawn tightly, while her other hand was firmly gripped on the scales of the dragon.

But the dragon, as if being controlled, shook violently until those alive remaining saw Aemma get thrown out of its back. Wasting no time, Aemma was lucky to quickly stand up and take cover as the dragon was now fixated on her. Even after the other men threw their spears and swords at it, the dragon wouldn’t take its attention away from Aemma.

And then, out the corner of her eye, she saw Jon doing the same thing. She shouted his name in hopes that he would hear it, but a piercing pain in her abdomen stopped her from doing just that. Desperate, Aemma took Dawn and waved it once, and quickly. Surely after, it caught Jon’s attention. 

Mustering all of her remaining strength, Aemma lifted the greatsword and aimed for the ruined wall beside them, but a rumbling sound delayed her from throwing it. The pillar that the dragon is targeting was now starting to crumble, and staying there would be the death of her.

Aemma looked for another wall that’s near Jon to cover her. And when she found one, she instantly ran for it before the stones hit the ground, crushing some of the dead bodies laying down.

Another stinging sensation shot through Aemma as she took a moment to compose herself. _This isn’t good,_ she thought. She knows she has to give Jon the greatsword before she loses consciousness. It was now or never.

Taking deep breaths, her grip on the flaming Dawn’s hilt tightened, calmly counting down to herself. Hoping that Jon’s still alive, she braced for herself as she came to the view of the dragon, her finally raising Dawn and successfully throwing it to the ground not far from Jon. But an undead grabbed his foot, knocking them both on the ground in the process. _I have to give him time,_ she said to herself, trying to encourage herself.

Yet, as she was about to pick up a sword, Jon was freed from the undead, and rushed to where Dawn lies. For a moment, Aemma could see Dawn become one with Jon. The way he ran towards the dragon with grace, without losing his grip on the greatsword. It amazed Aemma.

The dragon now turned its head to Jon, struggling as with every claw it gave, it missed the man who avoided every attack that it drew. Some of the men who fought beside them were clearly enthralled with the scene before them. Aemma wasn’t sure if her eyes were deceiving her but for a second, she thought she caught a glimpse of a smile appearing on some of them.

She did the same, although another pain caught her off-guard, this time it was strong that it made her clutch her stomach with one hand. A man rushed to her side as she lay down on the ground, facing to where the man who was told to be the one that would bring dawn to the seven kingdoms.

The pain was unbearable. She hoped that her worst nightmare wouldn’t come to fruition. As she cried from the aching feeling she was undergoing, she could feel her vision slowly black out, with the dragon being slayed while Jon rushed towards her as the last thing she saw before falling unconscious.

* * *


	15. Jᴇᴀʟᴏᴜsʏ

* * *

Three days had passed since Sandor Clegane found his wife's body lying unconscious on the ground of Winterfell. Near the place where they said their vows to one another. Anger boiled within his blood, though he wasted no time to save Aemma's life. Hadn't been for his scars, no one would've paid attention to him.

While he waited beside her, some people were bothering him to help them gather the bodies, as they were to make a pyre after they're done. He consistently ignored them, leaving his wife nor burning the bodies isn't exactly in his mind, though not until Aemma stirred awake.

"We did it," she stated, not exactly asking. Sandor felt his face twitch as he tried to give her a smile, "Aye, we did it." Tears were welling in Aemma's eyes as she returned his smile, grabbing his hands in the process. She then tried to reach out for him, only for her hand to swiftly touch her sides, before making Aemma squeeze his hand and her wincing in pain. Blood trickled in her tunic, panic quickly settled in Sandor's head.

"She's- my wife's bleeding!" the Hound roared from outside the door, still looking at Aemma who is now curled up, clutching the place where her previous wound was. Moments later, a young man came rushing to Aemma's side as she gripped hardly the furs that covered her. 

Sandor isn't the one to show any emotions in front of other people, at all. Yet at that time, he couldn't help but pace back and forth whilst he waited for the man to tend his wife's wound. His mind was blank, clenching his fists hard as the time went by. He felt his breathing go fast when a voice called his attention.

"We'll be starting soon, Clegane. I assume you have someone amongst the dead to give your respect." The Imp of Casterly Rock said, daring not to enter the chamber that he shared with Aemma. Sandor sighed before they heard Aemma speak up, "I have. I'll go with you two." The young healer raised his protests continuously until Sandor cut him off, "My wife won't be long, we'll return after she had said her goodbyes."

Tyrion couldn't help but smile when he saw the Hound put his arm around Aemma, even though the latter has a stick that supports her when she walks. A sudden itch grew on him, an itch to ask what did Aemma do to the Hound that he knew for so long. _No,_ Tyrion thought, _the Hound is long gone. It is Sandor Clegane now who stands before me._

The walk to the funeral pyre was awfully quiet for Tyrion. It's not usual for Aemma to be quiet like she is now, she'd at least try to start a conversation. Without missing a beat, he glanced up to see her with a scornful look in her eyes. Sandor must've seen him open his mouth to speak, as he shook his head subtly, letting his wife have the silence she needed.

"Let's look for him," was the first thing that Tyrion heard from Aemma. It was more directed at her husband than him. So, without wasting time, he diverted his path to give them the space that they needed.

Aemma felt a lump in her throat as her eyes wandered to look for a familiar face. Every second of their search feels like a punishment for her, she just wanted to whisper her wishes in Beric's ears. To let him carry her words to wherever he will go. She just wanted to see the man for the last time.

"There." her husband said, pointing to where some of her men lay dead. Aemma squeezed Sandor's hand before she rushed towards the body. _I can't cry right now,_ she said to herself, biting her tongue to prevent any tears from falling. Sandor's hand caught her arm, "There's no need to run, and you're hurt." he rasped. She gave him a sigh before complying to his command.

He secured an arm around her waist, patiently supporting her step by step. He felt both her warmth and the coldness as he saw Aemma slightly rest her head on his chest and her arm gripping on to him. Sandor couldn't still comprehend what he did to make Aemma spend her life with him.

He wanted to ask her, yet he knew this isn't appropriate right now. He could feel his wife's shoulder tense up as they approached Beric's lifeless body, getting even more tense as he watched Aemma froze in her place when she got a closer look at the Lord of Lightning. For a second, Sandor was afraid that his wife would break down and cry, hurting and opening her wounds in the process, yet no tears came down on her cheek.

Instead, Aemma calmly bent her knee beside Beric, her voice low and her hand touching his cold hands. It took her a couple of minutes until she stroked Beric's hand and gave a kiss on his forehead. "Give me strength to tell her," Sandor heard her say before she started to walk away from the dead.

He then quickly followed after Aemma, clearly taken aback from her actions. He also noticed that she's been acting strange since she woke up. Jon Snow started his speech, his voice fading out as Aemma walked without stopping.

"Woman!" he growled, finally catching up with Aemma, "slow down. You'll-" a thud cut off Sandor. All of a sudden, every emotion that Aemma held earlier came bursting. "I failed them all," she said in between sobs. The slight annoyance that started earlier in Sandor's mind vanished in an instant when he held Aemma in his arms.

They stayed on the ground sitting for more than a minute before he heard what made him restless.

"I wish I was one of them."

* * *

After she had woken up hours ago, Aemma made Sandor believe that she was asleep the whole time everyone was preparing for the feast. She tried hard not to bawl as her mind still blamed everything to her. She wished she knew of it all, of that silly telltale that their mother used to tell. She wished she hadn't been too late to save everyone. She wished she could find an explanation for her sister and her nephew as to why she's coming back home with dead men.

Breathing heavily, Aemma tried to move as little as possible. Thinking of ways on how she would be able to spend time alone, just to think. "I know you're awake. Won't you attend the feast?" a low rasp came behind her. _I guess he knew from the start,_ Aemma thought. She dragged the blanket up to her chin and turned to face her husband, sitting three arm's length away from the fireplace. "You go ahead, Sandor. I'll be right with you." he shook his head, "If you're not going, then I won't go either." Aemma was about to agree when a rumble from Sandor's stomach erupted, causing both to share a chuckle.

Sandor caught a sight of his wife watching him intently, though his eyes never left the fire in front of him. He waited for her to look away or say something, but he never heard a single word from her. "What is it?" Sandor asked, his tone coming out harsher that he intended it to be. For him, the world was unfair, it seems that the gods made Aemma used to his always foul mood. And all of it made him still cautious and confused about being loved.

He took a deep breath when he decided to face his wife, only to see her already sitting up, covering her body with fur. Her way of asking for him always makes him want to laugh. Shyly staring at him until he notices her, or she'd just wrap her arms around his waist gently and bury her face in his chest.

As if being pulled by her eyes, Sandor slowly stepped towards their bed, their eyes never breaking their stare. "What do you want, woman?" his deep voice made Aemma smile. 

She saw him return her smile with a smirk forming in his lips, letting her know he understood what she wanted. Aemma pulled Sandor in as she let herself be intoxicated by the taste of their kiss. Clumsy hands went all over Sandor's clothes, all the while he crawled on top of Aemma. He held her hands over her head, kissing her bare body that has been laid in front of him.

A small "oh" escaped her as he explored every bit of her body, with him nibbling and sucking her skin downwards until he arrived between her thighs. "Are you sure about this? You’re hurt." he asked, lifting his head to look at his wife. Aemma slowly closed her eyes, only for them to open as she met Sandor's eyes.

"My gentle warrior," she murmured, "we have been making love longer than we are married, you'd know the answer to your question by now."

“You’re hurt,” he repeated, observing her expression. He could clearly see that even small movements caused her discomfort, yet she smiled, “Then we could go slow. No one’s in a hurry.” Not a single word was uttered after Aemma spoke, stroking a strand of hair that's covering Sandor's scarred side. The two stayed silent for a while, until Sandor took her hand to kiss it before returning down between her thighs.

There was never a moment that Aemma was able to calm herself as she felt Sandor's tongue circle around her knob before entering her, and then back to playing with her. At first, the sensation of him being down there was manageable before his left hand slowly went its way to her breasts, cupping it gently. Then Sandor decided that his tongue wasn't enough, he slid two fingers inside whilst he savoured on her.

She heard him grunt when she pulled his hair a little too hard. She couldn't hold it anymore, "I want you inside me," Aemma commanded as she sat up and helped her husband remove his remaining clothing. She could taste herself as their lips crashed with each other once more, whilst Sandor nearly ripped his breeches off when it got stuck on his legs.

It took him a full minute to shove his irritation while he struggled to take off his clothing, resuming once he had properly focused back on his wife. If it weren't for the heat that Aemma feels, she would've laughed at Sandor getting annoyed by a little thing. She made way and wrapped her legs around his waist as he entered her with caution.

Their foreheads were against each other, bodies rocking rhythmically. Sweat was dripping from Sandor despite the harsh cold that Winterfell was giving them. The pain from Aemma's still fresh wound caused her to yelp, making him stop in his movement. She couldn't tell why he got rough with their lovemaking, or it's just passion that's driving him wild with every thrust.

“Do you want to stop?” he asked, caressing her face gently as he waited for her answer. Aemma took her time to compose herself, before she told him to slow down. He agreed, picking up on where they had left.

And he did slow down, yet she could still feel him losing control of himself, and she knew he was close when he upped his pace, holding her hand a little too hard, almost pinning it to the bed. She felt she was close as well, her breathing became ragged whilst she felt herself starting to tighten around him.

Aemma didn't know where to put her hands, from his chest to his shoulders, then finally settling on to gripping his hair. She pushed Sandor's face to kiss him, letting her release ultimately flow, feeling a pulsating sensation down her thighs. Soon enough, her husband followed and filled her insides with his warm fluids.

Even after they're through, the married couple did not stop to smother each other with kisses, calming one another. Aemma was the first one to smile, not taking her eyes off of Sandor. It was the first thing that drew him to her, the courage to look someone in the eye without trying to hide what their intentions are. From what Sandor could see, Aemma wanted only one thing that time.

Him.

Confusion started to rattle his mind when a couple of knocks came from the door, with it finally being open. "Aemm- oh gods," Davos cut himself off by turning his back towards them, "get dressed, both of you. The feast is starting soon." The Onion knight left as quickly as he came, slamming the door shut, leaving Aemma and Sandor laughing by the reaction of the old man.

"He'll forget it." Aemma jokes, gently pushing Sandor to the side, "what do you say? Shall we get dressed?" The man stared at her, his lips forming a thin line before sighing in agreement. "Don't give me that look, we'll be able to live our life after we've prepared to head South," Aemma said with a slap on Sandor's thigh, urging him to stand up and put on his clothes.

* * *

Luckily, Sandor and Aemma arrived just in time before the feast had started. Jon Snow insisted on Aemma sitting with them in the front, he was about to offer Sandor a seat with them when the scarred man spoke up first, "I'll find one myself." A dumbfounded Jon stared at Sandor after he left, making Aemma laugh at his reaction. "I'm surprised you're still not used to his behaviour."

Still couldn't move on from their exchange, both him and Aemma watched Sandor sit in front of Gendry, who is also always so shocked by his gruff nature. "I still couldn't believe that he's calm with you around," Davos joined the two, "have you already told him?" Aemma shook her head.

"About what?" Curiosity peaked over Jon's tone as they sat down, now speaking with a hushed voice. Both of them smiled slyly, not saying a word. Jon was about to ask again when he saw Davos subtly point at Aemma's stomach. "It was a maester who was with Samwell who told me," Aemma stated, "he wanted to tell Sandor but I stopped him. I wanted to be the one to tell him, and the man agreed."

"I noticed it too. I have not had my blood in the past three moons, I wanted to ask someone but don't know who. I am in luck when Samwell came in not a day ago to check on my wounds," she finished just as the servants started to place food on their table, “told me to stay put. That I almost lost the child after…”

They all fell silent after Aemma spoke, the oddness of them celebrating after the dead had been burned still lingered around the atmosphere. No one dared, or wanted, to be happy at that time.

Sandor took several glances to where his wife is, concerned with her state of mind. He saw her talking with the old man and the bastard of Lord Eddard Stark, though it seems she isn't touching much of her food. He was about to take his eyes off of her when Aemma's hand covered her mouth, rushing away from the hall.

Sudden cheers and screams as the people that were once quiet began to laugh and enjoy themselves, Gendry has been named Lord of Storm's End and Sandor was having none of it. He just wanted to get to where his wife is, she might be in pain for all he knows.

Sandor managed to push everyone out of his way before seeing Aemma come back to her seat. He was determined not to let their status become a hindrance to their marriage, Sandor approached the table where Aemma and the others were seated. "What happened to you?" he asked, his voice unintentionally rough from the lack of ale. Aemma looked up to see her husband standing tall, angry for whatever reason.

She noticed that he was waiting for her answer, "I am fine. Why do you ask?" he looked to the plate of food that's been untouched and back to her, "You aren't eating," Sandor huffed. It was Aemma's turn now to stand up, quickly sliding beside Sandor. "I'm fine, my love. I've just a lot on my mind, and my stomach's full as I learned. I'll eat when I feel hungry."

Sandor hated to push Aemma to do things, so he raised his eyebrow as an answer. He almost went for her lips when he caught a glance of the other highborns looking at them, his annoyance creeping back. Aemma was quick to catch this, pulling his hand and facing them, "I'll be joining my husband now, my Lords and Ladies." 

The Great Hall soon became more alive as men and women started to get more drunk, much to Sandor's joy. The attention that he received earlier won't be a bother, now that everyone is either trying to get someone to bed, fighting with one another or just plain trying to get even more drunk. Though the opposite thing can be said for Aemma, which Sandor found odd.

Like her food, the ale that she has been served was still full. His heart dropped to the floor, what if something happened that she's not telling him? What if someone approached her and confessed their feelings for her? _What if she got tired of him?_

The situation only got worse when she decided to leave after Tormund joined their table, him crying about how Jaime Lannister swept Brienne's feet off the floor. Crushing his dreams of him asking for her hand, yet Tormund's sadness was also swept away when a whore caught his attention. 

The whore's companion tried to seduce Sandor, sliding her hands on his thighs slowly. Anger rose to his head as the woman still did not take the hint, making him growl at her. Satisfied with the way the woman scurried away from him, Sandor returned to his drink, thinking that no one would bother him anymore. Until a familiar voice poked at his mind once more, a voice that he once yearned for.

"She could've made you happy, for a little while. Though I know that Aemma would wordlessly take her head for it."

* * *

Aemma thanked the gods for letting her escape smoothly from Tormund's hopeless love for Brienne. It wasn't until later that Tormund decided to leave Sandor alone with a girl around his arm, seemingly forgetting his broken heart.

Before settling her cup of water, Aemma straightened her jerkin when a hand rested on her shoulder. "It is good to see you again, Ser Aemma," a voice that sounded almost feminine spoke, it was Lord Varys. Aemma turned around to see the Spider, his smile that seems to be tired. "I could say the same thing, Lord Varys," she bowed to the now advisor of Daenerys Targaryen.

Lord Varys looked past Aemma, then back at her, "Do you have the time to speak with me, alone?" she did the same and saw Sansa holding Sandor's hand as they spoke, fully uninterrupted by the noise around them. Even with the Great Hall being enclosed with warmth, Aemma felt a sudden rush of emotions in her veins.

Aemma remembered the first time that Sandor arrived at Winterfell, back when Robert was still alive. She knew from the first time that the man had been enamoured by Sansa and her innocence. She knew it wasn't her that he first laid eyes on, it was Sansa. She felt that she knew the reason why Sandor had come to Sansa's chamber the night of the battle at the Blackwater.

It was mutual. Aemma saw that Sansa slowly fell for the Hound, with the way he protected her from Joffrey. Was it guilt that Aemma is feeling now? Mayhaps. She didn't know why emotions came running around her mind. On why she suddenly felt this way. 

Aemma looked back at Lord Varys, tears welling in her eyes. "Of course," she choked, "I hope you know a place that no one in this room knows." Lord Varys extended his arm for Aemma to take, "I know a place, they all know it, though I doubt anyone would be taking a walk there." Aemma made no effort to reply after that, Varys did not say another word either.

The walk from the Great Hall to the Godswood gave Aemma time to think about a lot, mainly on the thought of uncertainty to herself. Whilst her eyes were locked on to the ground, she clenched her jaw hard when her mind reminded her again of how the two were instantly attracted to each other, only her thoughts were snatched back to reality by a single cough from Varys.

"Oh, my apologies," Aemma said, this time lifting her gaze upon Lord Varys, "what is it that you want to talk about, Varys?" The Spider, taking steps towards her, glanced on his left and spoke, "The Dragon Queen."

* * *


End file.
